Reap What You Sow
by Lady Amor de Fati
Summary: Oliver Queen may be the most dangerous Omega in Starling City, but even he knows better than to go into heat around an Alpha. Especially when said Alpha was Slade Wilson, intent on taking everything away from him. Can their affections see through their hatred? Or will their pasts threaten to destroy their future? Slade/Oliver, Sladiver Past Tommy/Oliver. Omegaverse, A/B/O Dynamics.
1. Future Past

**Author Notes: **This starts during the end events of _The Scientist_ (2.08), as such some of the dialogue and actions are directly lifted from it.

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**Chapter 1: Future Past**

He feels the knives puncture below his left kneecap without as much as a flinch in response. They're thin, fine, jutted in deep enough past dense muscle that he notices them through stifled breathing. Oliver's putting all his attention into just exhaling with cracked ribs that his thigh may as well be suffering from pins and needles.

_That Alpha was way too strong._

Also,this mission established nothing, only so far confirming he was just as under-equipped to deal with this growing Mirakuru army as he'd previously thought. Twitching slightly out of reflex, the skivers in his leg don't seem to impede much deeper, having him doubt their dagger nature. _What the hell are they then?_

He barely remembers being stabbed by the super solider, let alone the Alpha bringing any other weapons to the fight besides his fists. Not that he'd needed anything else, a couple direct blows and Oliver's mind was reeling trying to manage all the pain he was in. Although lightheaded, it was necessary to make sure he wasn't bleeding out from the sudden numbness paralysing him.

Shrapnel could be poking out of him and he wouldn't know any different.

From this angle, he couldn't try a direct glance down to assess his injuries all too well, neck protesting the sudden whiplash damage from the way he'd fallen.

Everything ached.

Without Dig or Felicity, Oliver didn't think he could stand let alone walk out of this wreckage unaided. One arm trapped useless behind him—possibly pulled out of its socket—, he settled on pulling the easier right one out from underneath its personal rummage pile.

Half a dozen boxes and their contents fell over the place as Oliver pulled the last of his appendage free, bringing it up to rest against his chest. Wincing, he ignored the urge to cradle his bruised sternum, knowing full well he won't remain conscious for much longer to care. There are bigger things he needs to worry about.

The discomfort creeping through his veins was becoming achingly more apparent, something he'd been on the lookout now for days about.

Abrasions and wounds Oliver could discount and he was far more equipped to deal with. Going into heat right now would be an all new disaster unto itself.

It was possible he could even blame some of his bodily acnes on the former, not just feeling like he'd been put through the ringer in his fight early.

Last time he'd nearly gone four full months on the suppressants without breaking out in any significant symptoms. He'd have to go off the suppressants tonight if he wanted to make the experience even a tiny bit more manageable. These super soldiers had to be stopped, so this time he hoped he could bank on later rather than sooner before his biology betrayed him.

_Apparently not,_ a cramp stabbing him in the abdomen as he attempted to alleviate himself off the floor. He doesn't have much time. He's not getting to out of here alone. Fumbling around in his hood for the tracking transmitter, a small _blip _goes off. Oliver releases a sigh of relief, allowing himself to flop back downwards limbless.

Knowing the distress beacon would have gone off in the Verdant basement ceases one worry in his mind.

There's spots dancing behind his eyes and he blinks wearily, fingers-crossed the scent neutralizer would dampen the scent of his impending heat while he's out. At least Dig is a trustworthy-enough Alpha to be around, _right? _Dig was stillBonded to the Michaels woman, so nothing to worry about there.

Except neglecting to tell the people in his life one more secret.

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When the sirens go off in the substructure of Verdant, Felicity practically jumps out of her seat.

"What is that?" she asks herself, flittering through a few tabs on the computer before she finds the source.

_Oh_, Felicity nearly mouths aloud, programming off the alarm before spinning around on her chair. Diggle was there, his dark eyes meeting hers filled only with concern. "Oliver's in trouble," Dig states matter-of-factly, striding over to the desktop setup.

Felicity shook her head absentmindedly before wheeling back over to the task at hand. She'd quickly deactivated the blaring but the noise had been enough to assault her ears and scatter her brain. "Right," she remarked, pulling up a screen that should give them a location.

If Oliver hadn't remained at the bunker, the small GPS in his boot should give them his whereabouts.

Beside her, she feels Dig stiffen; too resisting her own urges to voice her frets. It was only every once in a blue moon that they were coming to Oliver's rescue and not the other way round. Trying her best to put those thoughts aside, Felicity pinpointed the signal. "Got it, still at the shelter downtown," she says, dashing out from underneath the desk to get to her feet.

Already ahead of her, Dig begins to ascend the stairs. Before making her way there too, Felicity snatched up her tablet, in case Oliver tried to make a move. Dig barely says anything on the move, Alpha protective instincts probably kicked into overdrive, at knowing Oliver was out there hurt—obviously, being unable to return alone. Back with the job Dig started with, it had been his duty to protect Oliver Queen, that was still a given now.

What changed was before John Diggle did that out of assignment, moral obligation, where an Alpha should always take care of the lesser capable Betas and Omegas. Rich boy Beta Oliver had shown to be more than able at defending himself, yet now Dig was protecting a fellow brother in arms, a friend.

They ascended the steps two at a time, only turning back at the top to check that the basement door was secure. None of the club staff were in yet so they were able to hurry through the foyer inconspicuously. Felicity huffed slightly as they scrambled outside and into the small limousine parked there.

_Running in heels, this just isn't my day._

"You ready?" Dig asked, casting her a sideward glance as he keyed the ignition.

She lets a smile tug at her lips, imploring that it looks genuine, hoping she doesn't look as nervous as she feels. Diggle's sight doesn't leave her though, car starting with a vibrant whir, when Felicity mentally slaps herself, buckling her seatbelt.

"Don't worry," Dig assures her, "he'll be fine."

She wants to believe him, but she knows better.

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It takes them seven minutes, thirty-two seconds to reach the A.R.G.U.S bunker. Not that anyone was counting, Felicity even pleading with Diggle to speed here and there. Reaching the edge of the Glades meant a detour, bypassing several unusable streets, until they reached the blockhouse which looked no worse for wear after an earthquake.

_Or, having a super solider rip through it, _Felicity mused.

The back roller doors were left distinctly open and Dig breathed a sigh of relief when they drove through undiscovered. They were lucky to be the first, preferably only, ones there.

"Let's go, Felicity," Dig pressed, pulling the safety pin out of his glock.

Felicity dropped her notebook from where she'd been watching Oliver's eerily stagnant signal, again scuffling out of the vehicle in her stilettos.

It's quiet within the fortified building, although they cannot be certain they are alone.

"Oliver!" Dig called, not sure whether to expect a response, advancing through the dilapidated ledges and ravaged wares.

Behind him, Felicity's shoes clacked nosily on the concrete. She likely wanted to avoid tripping over, yet wanted to lookout for Oliver's safety as much as he did. Managing to keep her balance, Felicity catches up next to him, calling out as he did.

Arms outstretched with his pistol at the ready, Dig drops them when he hears Felicity shriek "Oliver". When he wheels around to where her voice came from, he sees the young Beta crouch beside Oliver's limp body. _Not good. _From the way his body was crooked awkwardly, legs outstretched atop the broken shelves, he could have been…

"Is he alive?" Dig falters, Felicity going over Oliver's injuries.

Oliver hadn't been de-hooded so his identity likely wasn't out; they had that going for them. "Pulse is weak, but it's there," she offered, bringing her hands away from his neck.

_Unconscious, but alive, _that was better.

_Not great though_, Dig thought, hovering to the side while Felicity tried to stir their fallen comrade.

"His pupils are dilated," Felicity shouted, "running a fever and he's sweating," she lists off symptoms, bringing her hands away from Oliver's face to wipe them on her jeans

She goes to pull away, get to her feet when she notices the needles protruding from Oliver's calf. Diggle perks up at Felicity's quiet gasp, taking notice from where he'd been keeping watch.

"What the hell was that?" Dig called, leaving his lookout position.

Felicity was slowly easing both injections out of Oliver's leg as painlessly as possible.

Oliver doesn't spark, remaining immobile. _From unseen wounds or the drug's contents? _Diggle doesn't get much of an answer as Felicity only responds, voice frantic, having as little knowledge on the situation as he did.

"I don't know, it's coded," she cried, referring to the needles' indecipherable writing.

Taking the tubes, once containing who knows what, Felicity darted to the computer near the wall, leaving Oliver to Dig.

Its surface was cracked, glass shattered, maybe even from The Vigilante's fight with their thief earlier. "Dammit," she shouted, monitor practically dead, "I can't break into the dispensary files."

Diggle's at her side then, though the computer is useless to them.

"I have no idea what he was injected with!"

Felicity looks down at the contents in her hand, like hoping it would give them the solution to their problem.

"Poisoned with," she says, watching Dig replace his gun by his hip, fishing his phone out of his pocket.

"What are you doing?" she queries, beeps coming from Dig's cell, and she thinks she has a pretty good idea why.

"Calling 9-1-1," he verified sternly, and Felicity almost snatches the phone out his hand at the notion of it.

"Dig, wait!"

Oliver could be dying, but they couldn't detriment his life, he wouldn't have one either if he went to prison.

"Can't wait," Dig breaths back at her, clearly just as on edge as she was.

His eyes are alive and Felicity knows she's never seen Dig like this before. Worried beyond anything, where a solider was supposed to press on in wake of their lost ones.

Their team wasn't like that, should never become like that. They joined Oliver to help him, which also meant protecting his secret. No matter how much Felicity might have disagreed with Oliver's crusade in the beginning.

"How are we supposed to explain this? Everyone's going to find out Oliver's The Vigilante!"

Felicity tries to reason, making sure Dig had ceased calling an ambulance. There was no way they could hide this, not this time. Replacing Oliver's clothes and passing his condition off as another motorbike accident could have worked, stupidly enough. Yet, they didn't have time for that now. Felicity was running out of ideas.

"Which won't matter if he's dead," Dig asserted again, possibly sealing Oliver's fate as the mobile rang.

She grabbed it off him, dismissing the line before an operator picked up, even as Dig berated her, "that they couldn't save him".

"I know, you're right," Felicity huffed, acknowledging that to Diggle.

"We can't."

He hadn't won the conversation though, yet. They still had one last option.

Turning back to Oliver, Felicity has to hope they could trust the young Beta in mind.

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Oliver remembers the first time he had sex with an Alpha. Like actual sex, Alpha-Omega, the way it was _supposed_ to be. Or so they said, but Oliver had never brought into that to begin with. It wasn't just a drunken haze of sexual debauchery or swollen hickeys like they always used to be with him. Not just an Alpha female that thought he was a Beta either.

This had been real; there had been no secrecy there.

He had to admit, it wasn't hard to pass as a Beta; they were more common than any other dynamic and keeping company with them had like scent rubbing off on you. Oliver, as usual, hadn't expected the signs of his heat to appear so fast before he caved into them. Not helping either, Helena's return had reopened wounds he didn't want to admit still existed.

He'd been better than that before the island, managed to brush aside relationship scars like water off a duck's back. Sure, Helena had been great for recreational intercourse, though he'd never let her knot him. Alpha female or not, she'd probably rolled over for her late Omega partner in the past and let him take charge.

She'd done the same for _Beta_ Oliver Queen, they always did, and it made his life a lot easier. Only having to avoid sex during his heats and having a plethora of willing candidates to choose from made his life awfully fulfilling. At least in his teenage years it did, where a good shag the day after would usually settle his body from its accursed cycle.

Touch-starved on an island for several dozen heats definitely changed his way of dealing with them.

The first month afterwards was generous though, suppressants and Beta spray would have him living as a free man again. Three months, four maximum, was his limits and he knew better than to push them or expect those barriers to buckle.

Go off the blockers once every season, or rather, when his body forced him to, and then just go back to being a Beta.

_Right?_

No, it couldn't be that simple.

That's why when Helena had showed up on his doorstep—or inside his house, on the sofa, he was not in the least bit prepared for it. Having her show up again makes his skin crawl, heat bubbling up inside him in the presence of an Unbonded Alpha he'd once been intimate with.

Right now he had Beta Mckenna to worry about being attached to the hip to, not an ex-girlfriend he might feel the unexpected need to Bond to.

It doesn't happen; Helena keeps her hands, for the most part, off him. Oliver was mainly thankful she didn't weed him out as an Omega, scent neutralizer as The Hood and Beta deodorant otherwise managing to keep him covered. Shoving her on a plane off to Europe could have become a lot harder when she had one more secret of his under the belt.

In spite of putting Helena out of the picture again that evening is where the real problem catches up to him.

He's still going into heat, and fast.

But at that point, he can't really bring himself to care.

Tommy sits with him in the club after Mckenna's broken it off with him. He's apologizing a lot and Oliver can't help but want a hangover to accompany his burning insides. It might soothe his grief, but not the prickle under his skin that's just starting to hammer him now.

_Ugh now, really?_

"Do you want a drink?" Tommy offers, having the same idea he had.

Oliver nods, knowing better but falling prey to his misery anyway.

_Tommy's not a Bonded Alpha, he'll understand._

The Alpha leaves his side for the bar, while Oliver's heart and head wrestle with the idea of casual sex with his 'best friend'.

_Do it you deserve it_, his weary heart would press. _What about Laurel, she wouldn't appreciate this, _his conscious mentally smacked him. _He's not her Alpha though,_ and it's not like Oliver intends to Bond Tommy.

That settles it; he squashes his higher reasoning as Tommy brings back multiple shot glasses and a bottle of _Russian Standard_.

"Did you have to grab the _Russian_?" he groaned, only able to get it through importing so far.

Dropping the vodka on the table, Tommy smiles and Oliver wonders when his pheromones will overwhelm the Beta spray. It was before going to the hospital he'd reapplied it, so it'd been on for a couple hours.

_Not long now._

"Of course I did, I haven't had this one yet and it looks good," Tommy mused, breaking the silence.

Watching him pour shots for both of them, Oliver hopes Tommy can forgive him.

Maybe not for lying about being an Omega, or just lack of telling the truth, but for what he's about to do—or at least try.

Its aftertaste was harsh, scalding yet still weak enough to drink straight. Tommy coughs lightly, where Oliver has to refrain from laughing, knowing he could no longer stomach alcohol like he used to. It's probably better if he doesn't; getting wasted made for poor sex, ill-coherent movements, let alone if he wanted to be knotted, which is the end goal here. Hiccupping, Tommy grabs the bottle again preparing another round.

This goes on for a while, drowning their sorrows and ill trust with one another in alcohol, until half an hour or so has passed.

This was so low of him to do, but he feels like his heat will kill him, especially because he'll never become used to avoiding sex. Tommy looks up at him eventually, wide-eyed, possibly from the alcohol yet when he looks at Oliver there's shock there. He avoids pulling back instinctively when Tommy snatches his palm up from the table, pulling it to his nostrils, scenting him at an awkward angle. A smug grin spreads across Oliver's expression.

"Were you ever going to tell me about this?" Tommy demanded, frowning, pushing the liquor aside.

His eyes are glassy and he's slurring his words marginally. Tipsy, not drunk.

Oliver inhaled heavily, the air bringing with it his natural pheromones he always seemed to forget the smell of. Musky, with subtle metallic undertones; still distinctly that of an Omega's.

"Well, this is how I've decided to reveal myself," Oliver chuckles, alcohol having gone straight to his head.

Maybe Tommy would see the humour in it?

He reached for the bottle, pouring himself another drink as his friend just glares daggers at him.

"Speechless, are we?" Oliver pried, wanting the quiet to suspend.

Head tipping forward, Oliver knows he's probably beginning to look worse for wear. Stomach contracting sharply, he grumbled softly. His metabolism sure wasn't what it used to be. His body doesn't agree with him poisoning it at the moment either.

Tommy begins to observe him like a wounded animal.

"Are you okay?" Tommy pushed, eyebrows softening and pulling the vodka away from his grasp.

Oliver looks at him offended, responding anyway.

"Y'know, I've had just one heat since being back from the island," he said, acknowledging his dynamic aloud, "And it was hell. Knowing I also could have done something about it just makes it even worse."

Tommy looks at him unblinkingly, Oliver's voice cracking.

_So that's what this was about, _it would have been funny to Tommy—best friend being an Omega, had it not been such a weird situation… and a serious one.

"But why me? Wouldn't you prefer… y'know a girl?"

Tommy looks at Oliver, usually so strong, vigorous, since he'd come back from the island, and doesn't understand how he's supposed to be an Omega. The idea of it was almost ludicrous yet his scent undeniable.

Appealing, though this was his best friend he was thinking about.

"Tommy, seriously. I need someone who can fuck me. The list of Alpha females I know at this stage is practically non-existent, and there's even fewer people I'd trust to do something like this," Oliver scoffs, shoulders stiffening and beginning to look readily in distress.

Up swiftly, Oliver pulled Tommy with him, hands-on his shoulders.

"What about Laurel?" Tommy stops him, brushing the other's palms off his torso.

Oliver wants to growl at him, bites his tongue. There are few who would dare refuse his advances and he's becoming readily irritated, what he wants just within grasp. Pride marginally hurt, Oliver tries again, with the more open approach.

"Tommy, I know you love her and I wouldn't ask you, unless I didn't think this was going to drive me absolutely insane. You can still hate me that won't bother me, I just need you to bed me and be done with it," Oliver admits, ending with a slight growl.

_When is the last time I had sex?_

Thinking back, it was early December—ugh, Helena—three months ago, he deserved a medal for that level of restraint. The Alpha quirks an eyebrow back at Oliver, looking like he might be mildly persuaded at this stage.

'Just like old times, no commitments, no worries," Oliver jokes, half-seriously.

"So, like friends with benefits?" Tommy seems to spark up, lust possibly overriding his sense of reason at having a ready Omega before him.

_Okay, good, just a little more_.

"Yeah, I guess—but I'm really just keen for _now_. Anything else can wait," he said, resisting the urge to reach out for the Alpha in front of him.

Everything inside him felt like it was burning with the intensity of the sun, a Vertigo overdose only he wouldn't be getting the release of death from it.

Having heats was so much easier to buckle down on back when he still had his father around. His father who would breathe down his neck if he thought someone knew the truth.

Oliver feels his face flush, Tommy breaking his thought process, and having him realise he's holding the other's hands. Tommy doesn't retract away.

"I still don't know."

Bitting back a snarl, Oliver's almost to the point of grabbing a random Alpha off the streets if Tommy won't help him.

"I have spent every one of my heats alone, and those I didn't weren't spent being rutted," Oliver confessed, prying for the Alpha's sympathises.

It wasn't a total lie, not a whole truth either.

Tommy visibly pales. Maybe he wanted to ask 'why', but refrains from doing so, probably having heard enough of Oliver's secrets for one day.

"Okay," Tommy weakens, smiling glassy-eyed.

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"Right here?"

"Yeah, right here," Oliver confirms, half-stumbling down the steps into the basement, pulling Tommy along behind him.

Turning around, Oliver quickly claims Tommy's mouth unrelentingly. The Alpha smells like leather interiors and warm amber, Tommy's scent—one that he's grown up his whole life smelling, never seemingly affected by.

Until now when Oliver was wild with heat and need, hauling the other downstairs too eager to wait.

Tommy makes a muffled groan, back slamming into the wall as the Omega pins him there. Oliver silences any notion of noise from him, lips grazing over his own while the Omega's hands settled on his collarbone.

His hands were rough on Tommy's torso, kneading into his skin, yet his lips were soft. Those years without Oliver had been harsh, and it makes the realisation of what's happening now all the more real.

_Forget about Laurel._

The warmth of Oliver's mouth sends tingles through his body, Tommy pushing back against him, fisting the other's sweater up to bring him impossibly closer. Their heads bumped lightly, Tommy opening his eyes momentarily while Oliver claws at his shoulders and neck.

_Oliver needs you._

He's barely finding time to breathe, Oliver being invasive and dominant all at once, as he allows deeper passage into his mouth. His knees nearly buckle as Oliver slides his tongue over his own, hands readily moving from Tommy's shoulders to his shirt buttons.

Pulling back swiftly from the kiss, Oliver puts his full attention into undoing the Alpha's shirt. An erection was already beginning to tent at his pants; Oliver couldn't wait much longer, stretching parts of the fabric in his haste to undo it.

"I noticed that," Tommy says out of the blue, shrugging out of his shirt.

Oliver looked at him dumbfounded while in the process of tugging his own shirt off. He's already growing hard too, knowing Oliver will possibly skip all elements of foreplay just so he can be knotted.

"What?" Oliver panted; skin prickling as he brushed out of his clothing.

He shivered, heat intensifying every sensation he had with a burning desire. Discarding his shirt, Oliver waltzed back over to Tommy, still by the wall.

He goes to wrap his arms around Tommy's neck when the Alpha halts him, stopping his advance tenderly. "Your scars," Tommy whispered, looking gingerly downward as if afraid the Omega might bite his head off for it.

Oliver visibly cringes, having forgotten the severity of what his chest looked like. Every scar a visual reminder of the hell he had to endure on the island. A past that wouldn't stay buried.

It was never much of an issue before, partly because he'd avoided that sort of intimacy. The last person he'd gotten that sort of a reaction from had been Thea, who'd immediately been out for the truth as well.

"Not right now," Oliver pleads, slick beginning to glide down his inner thighs. Tommy's moved from the wall now, studying the mars and tattoos that littered his body.

Tommy cautiously places a hand on his bicep where a large scar runs its length. Its texture is softer than the hardened muscle there. Oliver met the Alpha's eyes where he looked back at him solemnly.

"I would never hurt you," Tommy assured.

The Alpha's touch was attentive on his body, easy, and Oliver nods briefly giving him further permission to trace his damaged flesh. Every brush of Tommy's skin against his own sent Oliver's insides wild, natural lubricant dripping out of him. Grabbing Tommy's hand he leads him over to the table, the only one not occupied by his weapons and Hood arsenal.

"I trust you," Oliver whispered, pulling the Alpha's hand to rest over his stomach.

Tommy's growls at him, nudging him backwards onto the cool, stainless steel, with which he willingly complies. Lying back, Oliver writhes slightly, as Tommy makes for his waistband, unzipping them. When Tommy looks up at him again, as if asking permission, he can only nod vigorously in return.

"Stop asking, just go," Oliver bites out, the Alpha now ungraciously tugging his jeans down.

Sure, Tommy was showing a lot more courtesy and restrain than the Alphas Oliver was used to, but he really didn't care about that right now. He lifts his lower back, allowing Tommy better leverage to pull his denim down, sticky from his body's natural preparation.

Finally kicking his pants off at the heels, Tommy's arms quickly snaked around his back, pulling him into the other's grasp. His shorts were damp, chilled against the rest of his fiery body, though Tommy doesn't seem to mind.

It was a different experience for Oliver, letting someone hold him again, though not an unwelcome one. Exhaling heavily, he tried to let himself relax in his friend's hold, while the Alpha's hands danced over his spine, knowing the other meant him no harm.

His heat might have been scorching every inch of his skin with sensitivity, but that didn't mean he was going to give into those urges easily.

Oliver lets out a whine unexpectedly, the Alpha necking him at the nape as he gripped at the contours of Tommy's back in return.

He ground his teeth to silence himself, Tommy chuckling in response as he nipped softly at Oliver's collarbone. Oliver retorted by grinding his hips up against the Alpha's erection, enticing moans from both of them. Tommy straddles his hips roughly, pushing him back onto the table, steadily rocking beneath them. His teeth grated hard over the tendons in Oliver's neck, having the Omega hook his legs up over the Alpha's back in response.

"You know what you're doing?" Oliver huffed, letting Tommy draw back from him and onto his haunches.

Legs still locked around Tommy, the Alpha began to make short work of his belt and pants before Oliver detached from him, letting him toss the fabric aside.

"Yeah, I've done this before," Tommy finally responded.

Oliver leans up on his forearms, body clenching itself in expectation for what it thought was about to happen. Or really, what Tommy better deliver on if he didn't want an arrow in him for leading Oliver on.

In the past, he and Tommy had done their fair share of mucking around, though never with each other. Malcolm had always been displeased with Tommy's taste in Omegas, stating that Rebecca would never have approved of any of them. This eventually led him to pull males into his bed too, where Oliver was careful to do exactly the opposite—being not that.

So it doesn't surprise Oliver when Tommy looks at him, eyes filled with knowledge foreign to him, before he dragged Oliver's boxers down his length. Easing the jocks down to uncover Oliver's rigid erection nestled in his dark blonde thatch of pubic hair. The Omega bucks up beneath him when Tommy ghosted his hands over the other's arousal. Using one hand to attempt to rid the rest of Oliver's boxers, the other lightly stroked over Oliver's length, making him wail loudly with need.

Finally freed of his clothing entirely, Oliver fists his hands up into Tommy's hair, pulling the Alpha down towards his pelvis. Linking his legs around the other's neck, he narrowly avoids kicking Tommy in the head when he goes down on him. Curled up against his stomach, his cock tightened in the moist of Tommy's mouth. Tommy was slow and gentle with him, keeping a constant rhythm that was enough to keep Oliver interested, without driving him crazy with need.

Oliver whined when Tommy stopped attending him, diverting his attention to his now weeping hole. Poking inside him lightly with a finger, Oliver's muscles burned lightly at the unfamiliarity of it all. His biology welcomed it though, relaxing shortly after to allow the Alpha further passage. Biting his lip, the Omega's eyes met Tommy's.

"You gonna slick yourself much more for me or not, buddy? Betas produce more lube than you do," Tommy laughed, carefully probing inside Oliver's entrance.

Oliver was supposed to be in heat, and although male, he wasn't being given much lubricant to work with here.

"I guess next time I'm bringing the lube then," Tommy finishes for himself, when Oliver only mewls in response.

"Ah," Oliver groans, as Tommy pushes another digit inside him, "too much testosterone likely."

Tommy brushes over his prostate, making him twitch from the fingers and toes. Pushing around gently, Tommy makes to feel for the Omega's secondary tract—the only sure way he'd trust male Omegas from Betas. Above Oliver's prostate, there's a channel in the flesh that no doubt leads to organs not found in other males.

Chuckling, Tommy's not surprised to find the entry closed, tight beyond anything. At least Oliver was playing it safe, though he wouldn't have been able to Bond him anyway.

Fluid begins to leak from Oliver's cock, the Alpha increasing his fingering motions in a bout of quick preparation. Oliver knows the average Omega should never need artificial lube; it was usually reserved for Alphas that weren't expected to be on the receiving end of sex often. Not having sex for several years on the island had possibly dented the intensity of his heats, and his estrogen levels were probably disgustingly low.

Not that Oliver Queen could ever be considered the _nurturing_ type in the first place.

"Omegas are supposed to have a hard time packing on muscle, and by god you're ripped," Tommy states, and Oliver's not sure whether to take it as a compliment.

Tommy removes his fingers from him, Oliver feeling a small sense of loss which quickly fades as the Alpha slips off the table and strips out of his shorts.

Oliver nearly growled, Tommy was hard over _him_.

"Turn over, it should make this easier for both of us," Tommy advised, winking at him.

Rolling his eyes, Oliver willingly complied, turning over and laying his upper body down flat. Leaving his haunches up in the air, the Omega supported himself by his hands and knees. Flinching, Oliver feels the Alpha lie a hand over his back, rubbing him firmly.

"Relax, I won't hurt you," Tommy assures, moving his hands to Oliver's hips.

Swallowing around the growing lump in his throat, Oliver gives Tommy a nod, glancing back at him. Releasing a yelp, Oliver's happy he's half-lying down when Tommy buries himself up to the hilt inside him. Tommy kneads circles softly into his sides while giving Oliver time to adjust to the no doubt _new_ sensation of being filled by an Alpha. Oliver rocks his hips warily, testing the waters, while Tommy inhaled deeply taking in his pheromones.

Pushing back against the Alpha, Oliver moaned as Tommy drew back from him before sliding in again forcefully. The mere motion of it sent sparks shooting through his insides. It helped him disregard the feeling of his knees and elbows scraping against the steel table with every thrust, pain clouded over by his lust-induced state.

On the small of his back, Tommy massages, easing the process for both of them as Tommy picks up speed. Oliver draws in a sharp intake of breath, Tommy hitting his prostate continually, already stimulated from earlier probing.

His cock draws impossibly tighter against his abdomen, Tommy growling in response to his obvious pleasure. Oliver almost manages to fist up his hardened length, but having his hand crooked, upside-down and coordination gone to shit, he couldn't grasp it without vastly changing position.

It didn't matter regardless, sensation still coiling in the pit of his stomach, a taut spring ready to come undone. Tommy howled behind Oliver, still vigorous in his thrusts, as his hips began to lock up, preparing to knot the Omega.

His knot swelled, ready to sate Oliver's heat, as the other contracted beneath him lightly. Oliver cried out in pleasure, clenching around Tommy's cock, as he came in slick, white ropes.

The Omega shuddered, slumping forward when Tommy slowed to accommodate him as much as possible, with his own knot than locking deep inside Oliver. Gracelessly, Tommy slumped forward onto Oliver as much as his body would allow it. Now spent and exhausted, Oliver could feel his muscles unwinding, even with Tommy leaking fluid inside him.

Later on he'd had to clean the table before Dig or Felicity showed up, but at least he knew he wouldn't have to avoid them for days like the plague. Heat now fading from his system, Oliver goes to tilt his head over his shoulder and thank the Alpha, before demanding he get off him. Though Tommy is for the most part collapsed on top of him, his eyes closed and his arms sprawled over the rest of Oliver.

Oliver chortles, prepared to wait out Tommy's knot so he can throw him off.

They might have done it again, but they'll never get the chance to.

xxxxxxxx

"Barry, what's wrong with him? He still isn't improving?"

It's been several minutes since they'd gotten the Warfarin into Oliver's system and Felicity was beginning to worry. Not only was Oliver still unconscious, but his movement had picked up and he'd become jittery. Dig might have been content to take both eyes off Oliver and begin narrowing down an identity on their sedative-thief, but not her—she needed to make sure…

Make sure Oliver was still teetering closer on the edge of life than death.

Barry, who they'd managed to catch—or abduct—at the station in the nick of time, was seated across from her. Her fellow Beta bites at his nails while contemplating a response.

"It's not the Warfarin, at least, I don't think it is," Barry stutters out, getting up stiffly from his seat. Pacing the vicinity of their makeshift medical centre setup, he flashes a small torch in Oliver's eyes.

"His pupils are no longer dilated, so the rat poison likely worked. Unless he's got high blood pressure or a peptic ulcer—" Barry stops, Felicity looking at him morbidly, "both of which I doubt, he wouldn't be The Arrow if he did. So Warfarin shouldn't cause him to react this way, except maybe the sweating—but that's not life-threatening!"

Barry smiles warmly at her and Felicity knows she could be overreacting, no one else seems as worked up right now as she does. Dig sparks behind her too though when Oliver groans from the table. Barry goes to step away politely, but isn't quick enough when Oliver seizes up his neck fiercely. Rushing over, Barry hacks in Oliver's grasp before Felicity and Diggle can pry him away.

Oliver groans, flopping back down for a moment before springing onto his feet. He still looks like half a wreck, but that didn't stop him from turning hostile very quickly. For a moment he swayed on his feet, gripping the table for support, and although not hurrying to help him Felicity has to ask.

"Are you alright, Oliver?"

She's attentive, hoping to pacify him, yet Oliver lashes out at the young Beta again anyway.

"Just fine, Felicity. Though I'd feel better if I could put an arrow in him," Oliver hissed, turning back to face Barry.

Before Tommy died, he'd never been latent in protecting his secret. Why'd he have to go thinking about his late friend again anyway? It was bad enough he'd thought about him during that _intense_ fever dream but…

This situation looked dire enough that he could break that oath again without too much lamenting on it.

_God, I feel like shit._

Oliver's skin was overheated and everything still ached from earlier, yet he managed to drown out Felicity and Diggle's white noise, in favour of seething at the young scientist. Barry visibly swallows in front of him, and he should, if he had his bow and quiver on him…

The Beta loosens in front of him though, and Oliver knows too late, that expression he's only gotten once before.

"Mister Queen—you're an Omega?"

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**Author Notes: **This chapter is a lot longer than I anticipated, nor did we get as far as I wanted, so I'm making the cut-off here. Originally, I wanted this up in time for _Blast Radius_ (2.10), but that didn't happen either.

Although, I trust myself on the grammar and spelling enough, if anyone would be keen on beta reading for me, just say so.

Also, before anyone asks, I mentioned Helena never knotting Oliver, no? Is this implying Alpha females have dicks? Yes, if Omega males have ovaries, it seems just as likely Alpha females have a retractable penis tucked up inside them.


	2. One Simple Task

**Chapter 2: One Simple Task**

_Oh boy._

Well, Oliver could deny it, though the scent masking had obviously been stripped away. No thanks to how sticky his pores were. Admitting it was worse though, especially in the face of a potential threat. Not just on The Vigilante front, Unbonded Betas and Alphas were always an uncertainty during an Omega's heat.

Oliver snorts towering over the young Beta.

That's not just one, but two secrets he's had slip out today. First his identity, then his dynamic.

At this rate he wouldn't have any privacy left before midnight. His life may have been in danger though there were always alternatives than revealing The Arrow's identity. From his partners' earlier rambling, it sounded like it had been Felicity's idea to bring Barry into this.

Barry quivers under his gaze, no doubt regretting his stray observation. Dig and Felicity haven't made a noticeable move to do anything yet, likely processing this new information.

"No, Barry. I'm just so intimidating; I need to wear Omega's perfume to make sure people don't think I'm constantly going to—" Oliver bristles, walking Barry backwards into a table.

"Oliver!" Felicity yells, cutting him off, stepping in between them. She slams a palm into his chest making sure he gets the message to back off.

Oliver winces lightly, jacket undone and no longer shielding his bruised ribcage.

It was really starting to irk him how much Felicity felt the need to defend this Beta. Were they Bonded and he simply didn't get the memo?

"I don't get it," Barry gapes.

Neither does Oliver because Barry Allen doesn't seem to be able to defend himself from an Omega, granted one that defied most stereotypes.

"Oh no, it makes sense all right!" Felicity cries, throwing her hands up in the air and turning on him.

Barry makes an effort to slink away in Oliver's distraction, moving out of the crossfires.

"You PHS big time!" Felicity accuses, poking a finger at Oliver who deadpans instantly.

She knows she's hit a nerve because Oliver grows quiet for a moment. His expression quickly mimics her own though, turning to irritation.

"Just because I'm the only one who seems to care about _my_ identity getting out around here, does not mean I have preheat syndrome!"

An accurate dynamic to The Arrow wasn't good either; Beta males would a messy category to navigate, many of them living within the city, but Omegas would be far more slim pickings for the police to dig through.

Not that anyone at the police department could have confirmed Oliver's dynamic, Barry could and those were both details he didn't just want anybody having.

"Felicity—" Dig spoke, trying to keep the two from each other's throats.

Neither of them were in the right here, Oliver keeping secrets from everyone was no surprise as usual. Oliver not feeling he could tell them about his dynamic stung Dig a little, then again, he'd also waited months to hear Oliver say anything about what happened on the island.

Dig makes sure to give Barry a discerning look when the Beta plonks down next to him. It meant stay put. Oliver may have been blowing a fuse but if Barry looked too much like he was running off, Dig would pull him back.

Despite Oliver's pheromones he was unconsciously emitting, the young scientist didn't seem interested.

_Probably wouldn't know what to do with an Omega like that._

Oliver and Felicity don't seem to have noticed a word Diggle's said as they continued bickering.

"Barry saved your life; you could at least try and be thankful!"

"What if he leaves here and goes straight to the police? He has more than enough information to—"

"He wouldn't do that, you know that. He practically worships the ground The Arrow walks on, though I don't see why," Felicity admits, rolling her eyes.

Barry looks taken aback off to the side, his fixation having probably lessened after being threatened by said vigilante.

"Guys, can we just—"

Dig doesn't get to finish though as a ringing goes off in the room.

"I have to go home," Oliver said, thankful when nobody pushs the conversation any further.

He'd have to settle for throttling Barry later. Moira would continue to pester him with texts and calls if he stayed out for much longer.

Shooting the scientist one last nasty look, Oliver goes to leave when Diggle catches him by the arm.

"Are you going to be okay?" Dig asks, Oliver barely having to think to know what he's implying.

Oliver resists the urge to stiffen and brush his friend off. Being an Omega did _not_ make him frail and no one should treat him any differently now that they knew. Except maybe the Barry kid, but his opinion didn't matter because he could still be disposed of, if necessary.

"I'll be fine Dig," Oliver assures, "I didn't just become an Omega yesterday."

Dig retreats from him as he hobbles slightly to a cabinet by the stairs. If he was going to go home and didn't expect to get the nasty surprise of everyone else knowing his dynamic, he would need the scent neutraliser. Oliver grabs it, where the cans of it stocked the shelves; some of them adequately disguised Beta sprays he wouldn't have to go to the trouble of concealing anymore.

The later probably wouldn't work in this situation and he'd just hope no one asked at home why his scent was oddly non-existent. Betas weren't that potent to begin with, so the scent neutraliser should mask his pheromones but not all the other tell tales signs that were just starting to rack his body.

Oliver hopes Thea is not up in the club for some reason. It's not like her to come into work early, but he doesn't need to cold-shoulder anyone else for the moment, least of all his little sister. He's nearly out of the basement when he hears a comment from Barry, hushed over and probably not expecting him to notice.

"I've never seen an Omega that scary before!"

Oliver resists the urge to go back down and strangle him.

xxxxxxxx

When Oliver arrives home, he lets out a sigh of relief, no one accosting him at the door when he lets himself in. Or looking at him oddly. It might be winter, but he'd dressed slightly on the heavier side to preferably conceal how flushed his skin looked, and how he was just itched to be—_nope_.

Oliver quickly sweeps that thought process under the rug.

Luckily most of the house staff were Omegas and Betas otherwise he would be strongly resisting the urge to throw himself at their feet later on.

Right now, he just wanted to go upstairs, lock himself up in his room to wait out his heat for the next twenty-four hours. Slinking away without announcing his return meant Moira would come looking for him eventually, so it would be best to confront her now rather than later.

Moira's decorating a Christmas tree when she spots him and she looks almost as much in distress as he feels. Her eyes are glossed over and she looks like she's been pinning. Maybe she'd found out he had contact with Walter, her last Bond-mate, in reseizing the family company.

It wasn't uncommon for Bond-mates to yearn for one another, even after they'd broken their ties.

_Please, don't be that._

It was months ago, but he'd been wrong about how ruthless his mother could be in the past. He lets himself relax from cringing inwardly when she smiles at him and thanks him for coming home. Her Omega scent soothes over him calmingly, it makes him wish that he could bring himself to tell her about his own dynamic.

"Is everything alright?" Oliver asks, again relived when she doesn't pull him into an embrace and notice how clammy his hands are.

He had maybe half a dozen hours max before he would be doubled over in pain completely.

It was possibly time to start scoping out potential Alphas if he didn't want to be spending the rest of his life until menopause in agony. Isabel Rochev comes to mind first, but she would probably still steal his father's company should he grow lax enough about it.

"Well, I don't know," Moira says almost sarcastically, "your sister has locked herself in her room and she won't talk to me."

She's obviously upset and Oliver wonders if she's done something to upset Thea that she wasn't mentioning.

"Don't worry, I'll talk to her," he bites out, even though he too wants to avoid everyone and lock himself up in his room.

Being the eldest, his parents would have never accepted that cheek with him when he was younger. Oliver politely excuses himself, almost wanting to bolt up the stairs and get this over with as soon as possible.

xxxxxxxx

Coaxing Thea out of her room had gone well, though Oliver had to resist the urge to growl at the Betas she was hiding out with in there.

He might have put in arrow in one of them, for which he should be excused—heat stirring within his body, irritability was to be expected—though he'd still deny the PHS. Oliver just wanted to pry Roy off his back, not have him in his house, where he should logically tear his head off for being in his sister's room.

How did his mother not notice the Betas crammed in there?

Thea's Alpha scent must have masked her hidden company well, even he didn't know until she had showed him into her room either. With that issue out of the way, Oliver lets himself into his own bedroom. He avoids locking it, content with his ability to scent anyone out before they'd enter the room.

Another ability he'd honed to perfection on the island.

Mainly he avoided barricaded and bolting the door to avoid ending up in the same situation that Thea was just in. If it gets too crowded in the mansion he can always go back to Verdant, and kick everyone else out of the basement. Everyone else.

People that now knew he was an Omega.

It felt so surreal knowing he wouldn't have to hide it from his partners anymore. Another truth that was painful to pry from him but elating to let someone know again. They were few people still alive that knew about his dynamic. Sara knows, though Oliver can't be certain he'll ever see her again. Shado and Slade had known, though he'd never been very forth-coming about it.

They were both dead now, and it almost amazes him how everyone he seems to let in on his secrets ends up dead.

Oliver sits down on the floor cross-legged, in an attempt to meditate some of his bodily pain away and push his unexpected thought processes aside. Drowning out the pain of his battered body was easy enough; the heat sensation wouldn't die of as effortlessly though. There was only one thing that could truly rid him off it.

_No_, he didn't have to fall prey to his biology this time.

Oliver had only ever weakened just the once, let someone else see the cracks in his visage, and it had been Tommy. Whom he'd known for his whole life.

Although Tommy could never have been his, the Alpha still loved Laurel, Oliver doesn't know if he can let himself be so vulnerable in front of someone like that again. Especially when he just keeps on losing people.

His mother had lost her first Bond-mate, granted she'd still had Malcolm Merlyn around to likely soothe that grief. That would not be him. Oliver doesn't know if he can take losing anyone else, let alone an Alpha he cares about. Beta males were viable mates as well, though he'd still be suffering though his heats then as Betas don't possess knots.

Steeling his resolve, Oliver knows he can endure this heat alone—just like he's always done. His breathing hitches when he feels his stomach roll with nausea. _Ugh_, this heat was going to be horrid though.

Going three months on suppressants, rather than the common Omega monthly, seemed amazing in theory until he had to deal with a consequently more intense heat for putting it off. Back on the island his cycles had slowed down too, likely a by-product of combined stress and survival instinct.

"If Felicity sent you to chew me out about not telling you guys the truth, well you're not the only ones," Oliver half-atones, apology coming out badly but he tries all the same.

Still lying on the floor, he groans softly, having his concentration broken and pain wracking at him again.

"Nobody knows you're an Omega?" Dig blinks at him, realising what his words meant, composure loosening.

The scent neutralizer as The Arrow made sense to Diggle, albeit illegal—to completely mask one's dynamic so thoroughly without apparent reasoning—and difficult to get their hands on. Not telling even his family that he was an Omega didn't, especially because he wasn't in a workforce like the military where Omegas were usually frowned upon.

"Nope, an expensive array of Beta-suited colognes masks my scent, and no one really bats an eyelid at it. My scent has never been that potent to begin with, but it's always better to be safe than sorry like you saw today," Oliver responds, though not revealing much Dig hasn't already gathered.

Dig knows he shouldn't continue to pry after Oliver's given him such a flat answer, but there just didn't seem to be any reason behind this secret.

Especially seeing as he was Oliver Queen, who could likely have whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

"Were you ever going to tell Felicity and I?" Dig asked, his voice sincere and not overly intrusive.

"That would also be implying that everyone else knew though. If I was to suddenly reveal myself to the public tomorrow, considering my lack of a mate—or even a consistent girlfriend at this stage—I'd likely end up like the Mayor's daughter, the old one. Alphas and Betas throwing themselves at my feet, no doubt for the money, which I already get enough of as it is," Oliver admits, not sounding at all keen on the idea.

"You wouldn't be fine with just marrying an Omega?" Dig queried, knowing Oliver had no doubt dated his fair share of every dynamic.

Although the possibility of Bonding and procreation was fairly non-existent, society had become a lot more accepting in the last few centuries of same-dynamic couples. Outside of Betas who were fine either way.

"Diggle, even if that's what _I _wanted, that's not entirely how it works. My family will expect an heir, preferably a maternal one if they knew they could get it. Thea's an Alpha, so that's out of the question."

Not to mention his sister's current boyfriend was a Beta, so Moira probably wouldn't be getting anywhere with grandchildren there fast.

"If I come out to my mom, she would possibly try to chaperone me off to an Alpha immediately," Oliver sighed.

His mother wouldn't be in the wrong trying to do the former; she likely wanted to make sure her family was financially secure and happy in order for her inevitable retirement. Now more than ever, considering she just got off trial for murder. Oliver has to stress the last part in his mind though, _happy_.

He would not be happy in the least to be primed like a princess for courtship.

"Well, she doesn't have to do that right away. Your mother should understand if you want to wait," Dig reassures, knowing Moira would still likely be quite vigilant regardless.

He'd never understood the wealthy ones unusually old-fashioned ways, even before he was in social security. They usually only seemed to marry into more wealth and based their courtships on one's status, rather than emotional commitment to one another.

"I'm twenty-eight, I'm likely already past my prime fertility, and will probably hit menopause by time I'm in my late thirties."

Fingers-crossed he did, menopause would mean only twenty-or-so more heats, if Oliver was lucky, then he'd be done for good.

"That early, hmm?"

"Yeah, the public shuns over a lot of the details, but the average Omega male will hit menopause before a Beta will. Omegas don't usually ever see a drastic drop in their prolificacy like Betas do, so I've got that going for me."

Diggle goes quiet, Oliver's intimate relationships none of his concern, unless Oliver allowed it to be.

"Why are you here, anyway? Did you just come into my room to ask questions?" Oliver asked, getting up from the floor.

He was slightly annoyed at being disturbed. Having an Alpha, albeit Bonded, in his presence at this time caused an uneasy feeling to settle in his stomach. He shakes it off though, knowing he can trust Diggle.

If he couldn't, well he could always adequately defend himself.

"Felicity's got a hit on Cyrus Gold, a motel," Dig explained.

"Who's Cyrus Gold?"

"The human weapon that would have left you for dead if not for Barry Allen—"

They still had the young Beta with them down at Verdant, so better Oliver get used to it sooner rather than later. Oliver seems to get the point though as he cuts Dig off.

"Alright, I get it. Kid's okay. You got a location so I can put an arrow in this guy," Oliver exclaimed, eager to get back at the one who'd left him so battered in the first place.

"Oliver, I don't mean to be rude, but you shouldn't even think about going anyway near this super solider in your condition. In a couple hours you probably won't even be able to stand," Dig advises, seeing his words go unheard as Oliver collects himself and looks to make a move for the door.

"Dig, I'm fine okay. I have time, a couple hours at least, before my heat really kicks in."

Oliver might have stressed that last number slightly, but his desire to put down this Cyrus Gold, outweighed the inconvenience of it all brought on by his heat.

"Are you sure?" Dig asks, watching Oliver reach for the door, knowing he couldn't talk his friend out of this.

"Yeah, I'll be more careful this time. This time I won't be walking into a warehouse full of sedatives either."

xxxxxxxx

Oliver manages to escape Verdant only several minutes before Thea's shift should be starting. It's still deserted though, so he's guessing she'd probably phoned all the staff in advance that they wouldn't be open today. No thanks to him putting an arrow in her boyfriend. So her most trusted worker and her are out of commission, but it works out in his favour.

After dealing with Cyrus Gold, he'd probably haul out in the basement to wait out his heat like he's always done in the past.

He'd reapplied the scent blocked twice so far just to make sure everyone would stop gawking at him.

Barry had also managed to become surprisingly more annoying, making comments about his costume and about how amazed he was to see such a combat proficient Omega. It'd barely been two hours and already the Beta had recovered from being on the end of his outburst.

Or maybe his passion for The Vigilante just extended beyond his fear of Oliver Queen.

Oliver had gotten out of their quickly though, only waiting around to suit up and receive the address from Felicity before darting out. His skin was still prickling in irritation, but he was able to fight through it thinking about how much worse this threat would get if left unattended. So far they still had no leads either as to who this Cyrus Gold was tracing back to.

Going into a lone crouch, Oliver surveys the lone window to the hotel.

The man's current hideout was fitted next to several flights of fire escape stairs, so he'd be able to breech the building without having to make for the roof. Under the cover of darkness, Oliver makes his move, swiftly jumping from one rooftop to grapple onto the stairway. The iron clattered as he collided with it, noise pronounced, though not much more than what crashing through the window would have been.

At least his entry looks discreet this way.

Oliver grits his teeth, muffling a moan as a pang of pain stabs him in the gut. His biology obviously did not agree with him parkouring around at this current stage. Battling through the pain that didn't want to leave him, he makes for the window, prying it open easily enough. It was without a latch, like most of the older buildings in town.

Oliver slipped in through it soundlessly, padding in his boots silencing his fall on the carpet. He pulled his bow off his back, gripping it in his left hand.

The first thing he noticed was how seemingly unoccupied the place was. A bed against the wall was made up to perfection, tables and counters with nothing of significance on them to symbolise anyone ever living there. Their thief either didn't come home a lot or hadn't been here for very long.

Possibly both.

He inhaled deeply. There was minimal scent in the room that was telling him anything either. The most vital scent that he needed, he caught too late. It was closing in on him, _Alpha_. Oliver winces when the super soldier's arm slams into his side. He recoils, dropping to the floor, though the pain is not much more severe than what it was back in the bunker.

All of his ribs were hopefully still intact, if not, nothing worse than what he'd dealt with on the island.

"I thought I killed you, now you come back for more?" Cyrus scoffs, walking over to where he was still noticeably cringing.

_Not good._ Although the pain was becoming manageable, his body's protesting was not. Telling Oliver to stay down and cradle his wounds. Submit to the Alpha in hopes he would spare him.

_No_, he was not that weak.

Or so he thought.

Finally grasping his bow up from the floor, Cyrus clenches him by the back of the neck. Fisted up by the back of his hood, Oliver's face grates against the carpet when Cyrus throws him into it.

So weak, he was so pathetic.

If only he could get to the transmitter tucked away in his hood, where his chest was smooshed against the floor.

Could Diggle get here in time, before Cyrus finished with him?

Oliver flails weakly, smacking his bow into the man's side.

There's nothing, not even a grunt in response to say the guy felt it. Cyrus pushes down on him imposing, Oliver now barely able to see anything outside of the carpet and the darkness shrouding him from his hood.

"My brother will be most pleased; perhaps he would like to kill you himself?" Cyrus chides as Oliver's attempts at scuffling back at him go seemingly unnoticed.

"You can go to hell," Oliver spits back, voice coming out a lot deeper than normal due to the voice filter he used.

He feels his arms and legs only grow sorer as Cyrus brushed off everything he had left like it was nothing.

At least if Cyrus wasn't going to kill him now he might be able to make an attempt at getting the siren off down at Verdant. Right now though, Cyrus still had him pinned and Oliver was more concerned with defending himself from further assault.

"Don't worry; you won't be in your misery—" Cyrus growls, leaning down close to his face, as close as he possibly could go without noticing who Oliver is, before the man stops, recoiling.

Oliver wants to have another go at him, however decides against it to conserve his strength until it looks like he'll be able to make a solid getaway. Which wouldn't be happening now as Cyrus only presses down on him again, drawing in sharply.

_Oh shit_.

Had the scent blocker started to wane so soon, or did these super soldiers have an enhanced sense of smell? His scent was probably growing stronger, so it was stupid of him—stupid, to think an Alpha wouldn't be able to notice his dynamic.

And impending heat.

When the other surprisingly eases up off him though, Oliver bolts to his feet, reaching for an arrow. It doesn't last as before he can wheel around, Cyrus scuffs his legs out from underneath him. Oliver falls into the wall, letting his legs buckle as he watches the other. Cyrus has a phone in hand—a ghost phone, Oliver guessed—expression unreadable behind the black mask he wore.

"You stay there, strong Omega," Cyrus warns, and Oliver almost chuckles when the Alpha referred to him as 'strong'.

They never expected an Omega to fight, now did they?

Cyrus has backed off him; the phone must be ringing, because the Alpha brings it to his face.

Oliver glances over to the window, still intact.

It was only a few feet away from him and Cyrus was blocking elsewhere, the doorway. He could make a run for it, preferably use the limbs of his bow to shatter most of the glass, and he wouldn't have to go anywhere near the Alpha to make his escape. Cyrus keeps his eyes on him, but was far enough away that Oliver anticipated a possible escape.

It was a plan, now to just gather the willpower to make it there.

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Sebastian Blood is going over his potential mayor campaigns when the ghost cell vibrates in his desk. He gives a quick glance around the darkened office, where he was obviously the only one left, just to be safe before going to pick it up. There's only three people that knew of the phone's number, one of which he usually doesn't expect such direct contact from.

Answering it, Sebastian is slightly relieved and slightly annoyed to find it's just Cyrus. "Brother Cyrus, I trust you have good reason for calling," he spoke, voice distinctly distorted on the other end of the phone.

Even though he was sure he was alone, they shouldn't have been making such traceable contact with one another.

"Brother Blood, I have failed you—I did not kill The Vigilante as I had expected earlier."

"You what? How could you have failed?"

Sebastian was flabbergasted.

The Vigilante was one man, a simple man, and Cyrus was a human weapon—it was ludicrous for the later to fail in such a simple task. His superior might not have been happy with these attempts Sebastian was having made on The Vigilante, but he was a possible threat to Sebastian as well.

He'd prefer not to have an arrow in him.

"Again, I apologize. I have him here though, an Omega. I thought you might like—" Cyrus states, but Sebastian cuts the Alpha off.

"Hang on, an Omega? The Starling City Vigilante is an Omega?"

Sebastian nearly laughs, this was quite unexpected.

Everyone always theorized an ominous Alpha, or a well-secured Beta in life, but never an Omega. Maybe as a fellow Beta he was being slightly sexist, but it was no wonder the police could never seem to catch the vigilante. The average Omega would never have such a skillset, refused military and most combat-related training. Which The Vigilante most certainly had in some shape or form.

"Yes, on verge of heat," Cyrus confirmed, voice cold and not at all seeming like he was in the presence of a ready Omega.

The perfect solider, Sebastian had chosen him well.

"You were right to ring me, Brother. I want to know who this Omega is, the most dangerous Omega in Starling City," Sebastian citied, most amused by this turn of events.

"I have him here at the Patricia motel, Room 34, where I'm staying."

"Good, leave him unharmed, for the most part. There is someone else who will be pleased to hear this. I will be there shortly, Brother Cyrus," Sebastian finishes, ending the call abruptly.

He sits back down in his office chair, almost stunned.

An Omega… he wanted to find out who this great Omega was.

There'd been Omega criminals in Starling City before, Garfield Lynns and Barton Mathis were among the more notable ones. But the head honcho himself, an Omega?

Sebastian could only hope his boss would delight in the news as much as he did, picking up the phone again. He dialled another number, albeit coded, in the phone, becoming increasingly giddy as it rang.

The voice that picks up on the other end of the phone is husky and tight.

"This had better be important, Sebastian."

Sebastian knows calling his superintendent might not have been the best idea, but Cyrus had The Vigilante trapped right where they needed him. Preferably to be interrogated, as there was no doubt the Omega had followers.

People who would also need to be put out of the picture if he was going to reclaim the city as he own.

"It's The Vigilante. Cyrus told me he had been disposed of, but—" Sebastian started.

"And I told you not to confront The Vigilante. Don't forget you too, Sebastian Blood, can be replaced," his boss reprimanded, ending with a growl.

"He's fine. Brother Cyrus has his cornered, I've told him not to harm him any further."

Sebastian doesn't get much of a response except for a heavy exhale through the line.

"I'll handle it, tell me what to do, and I'll get it done," Sebastian assured nervously, "an interrogation would be a good start, as I doubt he is alone in his crusade. And get this, Cyrus tells me he's an Omega. I wouldn't have believed it either but Cyrus tells me he's on the verge of a heat cycle."

Sebastian wanted to laugh.

It was amazing what lengths The Vigilante wanted to go to do what he thinks was presumably keeping the city's people safe. Even if it meant putting himself at the mercy of every Alpha in the city. It's almost surprising his biology hadn't betrayed him so badly sooner.

The gruff voice on the phone doesn't seem to find it as pleasing as Sebastian does though, the other hissing.

"Stupid!" his boss yelled, the Beta cringing even though he wasn't able to see him.

"What, it's no big deal. Cyrus used to be a preacher so he'll keep hands off him, if you want—"

The Beta felt like he'd possibly go into hysterics, accidently overstepping his boundaries with his superintendent.

"When and where now?" the other barked.

"Patricia motel. Apparently The Vigilante came there looking for Brother Cyrus. Whenever and wherever you want, Brother Cyrus and I can interrogate him."

"No. You bring him to me, and do so discreetly. You don't unmask him either, that is my pleasure alone. Preferably bring him here on your own."

Sebastian lets out a sigh, knowing his boss likely didn't want Cyrus to be seen in the vicinity of their headquarters. That means he'd have to manage The Vigilante on his own for some time. Depending on how weakened by his heat he was, that could be doable.

The possibility of a bloody nose was there, but he could always blame that on the fanatics abhorring the peace in Starling.

"Alright, give me a couple hours, and I'll have him in the basement," Sebastian obligated.

"One hour. If Cyrus has harmed him seriously, it is you too who shall be held responsible."

With that the call is ended and Sebastian sighs before going to Brother Cyrus again.

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A minute or so into Cyrus's phone call, Oliver decides it sounds bad. Whoever the Alpha was talking to had just been informed he was an Omega and Oliver did not want to stick around to see where this conversation was heading. Tensing his muscles, they're still sore and stiff but he's steeled himself enough to possibly make for that window now.

More seconds pass as Cyrus continues to have his gaze, for the most part, averted. The phone call sounded like it was finishing up and after that Oliver would likely not get another chance for escape. It had to be now.

It might have been cowardly of him to run away, but at this point he'd lost the fight. Staying now meant he would only die, or worse.

Facing the window, Oliver bolts for it, right as the Alpha sounds like he's been hung up on. His legs object his swift movements, yet he keeps the adrenaline pumping in them until he's within reach of the window. It's only a couple feet away, though it feels so much farther before the window comes within his arm's length.

Using the limbs of his bow, Oliver spears one side of it through the glass's surface, shattering most of it outwards. He lets it drop out of his hands as he dives through the window.

Breaking the glass beforehand made jumping through the glass-littered ledge less painful, no noticeable fragments piercing in through his hood. The fall is the most painful part, as he only haphazardly manages to grab onto the staircase when he makes the jump. By the bottom of one of the stairs, falling at least a solid meter or two.

The impact of it sends jolts through Oliver's body. Cyrus has no doubt noticed now, Oliver not even attempting a look upwards to check.

With a relatively loud _clack_, Oliver knows his bow has hit the ground. The limbs have probably survived so he'd still be able to use the thing, but he imagines the frailer sight might not have been as lucky. It would likely need replacing, yet his mind was far from thinking about his equipment getting broken.

He was not going to let that man get his hands on him, especially know that he knew from the sounds of it, Cyrus was going to do anything but kill him. The notion of it gives Oliver the resolve to let go from the railing he was holding onto.

He broke his fall into pieces, dropping a bit, and then clasping the railing to avoid hitting the concrete from such a height.

It's an awkward procedure, though much preferable to what he imagines the Alpha will do to him, should he not make a move.

Bending his knees reduces the impact significantly when Oliver finally drops to the floor. Landing on the balls of his feet, the impact is still exhausting, and impossible for him to remain standing. He teeters to one side, allowing himself to drop. Using one arm, he tries to shield his head from hitting the ground directly, so he doesn't end up seeing stars.

_Shit…_

Twitching his legs, Oliver finds the pain is mostly muscular—nothing broken, otherwise getting to his feet would have been excruciating. He hears Cyrus grunt behind him, obviously following his suit through the window. Leaving his bow, he begins to make a run for it, like he's had to do so many times in the past on Lian Yu. His stomach cramps, body still intent on going in heat in spite of all the other pain he was in.

The struggle to resist his body's natural cycle was so futile. It was like asking a freight train to derail, for no reason, from its intended destination.

_Just a little longer_, he only needed a little bit more time.

Rounding on the curb's corner, Oliver makes for the transmitter in his jacket. Teeth digging into his lower lip, he tries to keep from screaming out in apparent agony. Oliver fists up from the transmitter from his jacket only to find the device cracked, mangled plastic hanging out of it.

When Cyrus had been smashing his face into the floor, it must have been crunched to bits beneath him. In spite of its appearance, Oliver still gives it the button a push. Nothing happens, it was beyond use.

He can only hope that before it was destroyed, the device had enough pressure on it to go off. Though he knows that's unlikely.

Dig and Felicity recognizing his signal was on the move, via his boot tracker, was his only hope if Cyrus caught up to him. Even then, Oliver wasn't sure if he could make it back to Verdant—or anywhere safe, for that matter, before he collapsed on his own.

The situation was growing direr by the second, but he's taken enough turns through the streets now that he no longer hears the super soldier's steps impending behind him.

These parts of the Glades were thankful far less habitable, even months after the earthquake travesty, so Oliver manages to remain seemingly unseen as he darts into another alleyway.

It would not do well for his situation, or himself, if The Arrow was seen running through the streets frantically.

Oliver collapses onto a wall once he realises he's hit a dead end. He'd better have lost Cyrus somewhere because this felt like as far as his body was going to let him go.

Panting out of exhaustion, Oliver notices his scent. It was strong, far too strong for his liking.

A siren's call to all Alphas in the vicinity that he was in heat.

At the very least, an Omega's heat pheromones did have the same effect on Alphas that the smell of a woman's tears did on men. Oliver wasn't in the least bit aroused at the moment, so his scent would likely act as a pacifier rather than an aphrodisiac.

It was one of the reasons he'd managed to survive on Lian Yu, scent enticing but dulling at the same time to those who took notice.

Just to be safe, because he'd rather not have anyone notice him, crumpled over in the alleyway, he digs a small can out from his pocket. It was a much more portable form of the scent neutraliser.

Regardless of being close to heat or not, Oliver usually carried some of it on him when out prowling the streets. Quickly, he emptied the spray over his body, tossing its plain can aside once done. Having settled the issue of his scent, he grows uneasy at being stranded in The Glades.

The scent neutraliser wouldn't last forever, a lot less time than it usually would, now that he feels his skin begin to perspire.

Dig and Felicity would eventually come get him, but for now the alleyway felt unsafe. As an archer, he was used to being up in trees and on rooftops where he was less easy prey.

_Ugh, should have grabbed the bow._ At least then he could have then made an attempt to grapple onto the rooftops, where it was a lot safer than the ground.

In a moment, he'd go back for it. Get up high and wait to be rescued, rather than stay there waiting for someone to just stumble upon him. Cyrus had no reason to take his bow, so it was likely still left there in between the buildings.

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Cyrus doesn't pick up immediately when Blood rings him back. The line nearly goes out to the operator's voice, no natural message bank set, when the Alpha answers.

"What took you so long?" Sebastian half-hissed.

"'Vigilante, he got away," Cyrus grunts.

"How did he get out of your sight!" the Beta demands more than asks.

This was not good.

The boss expected The Vigilante, delivered to him within the hour and now Cyrus had just gone and let him get away. How it happened didn't really matter, except that Sebastian would get the blame for failing in said task. He did not want to be at the end of his boss's wrath when he didn't get The Vigilante to him, in the next fifty-five minutes. Sebastian shivered just thinking about what sort of punishment he would get.

No, they still had time.

Cyrus remained quiet on the other end of the phone, awaiting further orders.

"Alright, he couldn't have gone far. How close to heat was he?"

"Very, within the hour, I would expect."

"Then scent him out! He couldn't have gone far; he's probably in the throes of pain right now!"

This was so stupid. Sebastian had told Cyrus to not heavily damage the Omega, not leave him well enough that he could still get away. An Omega that was far tougher than it looked; he'd give The Vigilante that.

"His scent's gone cold, Brother. Though it wasn't very potent to begin with."

The Beta just shakes his head. His superior wouldn't like this, but The Vigilante had come back a second time to make another attempt on Cyrus Gold. This time he'd failed, so there was no doubt he'd be back again. That's when they'd get him.

"Alright, leave it then. He's possibly had his backup chuff him out of there," Sebastian says before hanging up.

The phone remains in his hand though. There was no doubt it would better for him to tell his superintendent sooner rather than later that they'd lost The Vigilante. Much better to do so on his own terms than the other's, when he inevitably found out.

Dialling again, he almost hopes the other won't pick up. That hope is crushed when the man's voice comes through the line, loud and clear.

"You have The Vigilante, I trust?"

The other's voice was authoritative, exuding dominance. _Alpha_, he could tell without even needing to see him.

"There was a slight problem," Sebastian began, "Brother Cyrus lost him. I would have told him to continue in his search, but apparently The Vigilante's scent has gone cold."

There's silence over the phone, not even a heavy exhale to say that the Alpha was disappointed with him.

"Look, he'll come back. The Vigilante always does, and when he does, we'll get him. I promise," Sebastian affirmed.

He's half-surprised though when the line doesn't go dead immediately.

"I'll handle this," the Alpha says before the line clicks off.

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It takes Oliver a lot longer than expected to get back to the motel. Hobbling in and out of the cover of darkness whenever a car siren went off or it sounded like someone was nearby. He was being cautious, possibly overly so, but when most people saw The Vigilante they usually didn't respond with hospitality.

If he hadn't been half-limping on his aching leg too, it might have only taken him several minutes walking to get back there.

When he'd sprinted away from there earlier, it had barely taken him a minute to find the dead-ended alley to seek temporary refuge in. Granted, Oliver had the added benefit of a super solider Alpha on his tail to better motivate him to fight through his aches and bruises. It might have been stupid, to go back for his bow now. Dig and Felicity were possibly already on the way, both having advised him not to go in the first place.

Still, he'd already begun to make the journey back now and at least on a building, the tenseness of being spotted would leave him. Slick had begun to stain his pants, along with contractions wracking him, telling Oliver he was no doubt in the full throes of his heat. Everything was hot but the midnight air cooled around his face, easing how sweltering he felt.

Eventually, after what felt like forever and an infinite amount of time, his bow comes into sight. It was there, just where he'd left it—or dropped it. Still fully intact though not without some scrapes and imperfections from the long drop. However, someone else was also there. Standing only several feet away from him, bow trapped between them, was a man.

_Alpha_, his mind warned.

That wouldn't usually pose a threat; the man was badly dressed and filthy, possibly homeless. But bruised and battered, Oliver was not up for combat, nor another bout of endurance running. The Alpha's glazed over, perhaps shocked to see the owner of the weapon return for it.

Clutching a stich in his side, Oliver knows he doesn't look the vigorous vigilante they always made him out to be. The man steps forward, moving towards him and Oliver instinctively takes one back. It doesn't matter though as the man immediately collapses to the floor.

A pair of hands had wrapped around the Alpha's neck, suddenly snapping it to one side. The man doesn't even twitch when he hits the ground lifelessly. Oliver's breathing hitches, as he feels himself go weak in the knees. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"You're not real. You can't be here," Oliver murmurs, the other possibly not even hearing him.

Not trusting his senses to know if this was just another fever dream, product of his heat, albeit more of a nightmare.

The man in front of him, although immaculately dressed, was Slade Wilson.

"Hello, kid."

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**Author Notes:** Another long chapter of not getting as far as I would have liked. There's not really a better place to cut it though, and the sex was always slated for Chapter 3.

Also, yes, it's been scientifically proven that the smell of female tears affects a man's testosterone levels and somewhat dampens their sexual arousal.


	3. Reckoning

**Author Notes:** The flashback events here do divert from those shown in canon: _Tremors_ (2.12). Most of this was planned/written prior to it airing; things having to be tweaked to suit the Omegaverse too.

Also, I was wrong. Forewarning, there is no sex in this chapter, though the next chapter will definitely include it. One scene took up a far larger word count than originally intended and what I have here has been split into three parts.

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**Chapter 3: Reckoning**

Cyrus had gotten him, again, or he'd collapsed in the alleyway. He was obviously unconscious, and going into heat. _Shit_, he could be sleepwalking through the streets.

A nasty habit Oliver had picked up in the aftermath of coming back from the island. Yet he hadn't done it in months. Or at least no one had caught him in the hallway, past midnight, yelling over things of the past. That hadn't happened in a long time.

Heat cycles made everything worse though, always did.

This was just another dream, another he would have to work through. Preferably one Oliver didn't remember when he came to, wherever the hell hewas outside.

Maybe Dig and Felicity had him? That would mean at least somewhere he was safe.

Oliver glances away from Not-Slade, still standing there like he's expecting a response. Talking to his own imagination was stupid, he refrains from doing so. Especially when most of the thoughts running through his head were sirens and warning signals. Brushing those notions off was easy enough. Oliver did not run away anymore. Not when the odds were evened out, and he didn't have to fight super solider Alphas in real life.

The Alpha in the alleyway that's just flopped dead: a perfect, natural hallucination, in response to his desire to _not_ get completely molested in the Glades. Or really anywhere at all.

Slade was a low blow for his mind to deal though, his biology seeming so thoroughly intent on punishing him for putting it off. It won't work however; Oliver can still see the truth. Hard facts.

The real Slade was dead. The real Slade never knew he was The Arrow—that he'd now just been caught out in his guise of—or that persona having existed at the time. The Slade he had known still had both of his eyes intact.

This figment of his imagination moves though, like the physical being would—towards Oliver. A soldier's stiffened shoulders and tightened gait.

Averting his eyes, Oliver puts them back on target—his bow.

This was just like Tommy, only worse. Why did his mind have to dig up dead Alphas? He's never seen Slade in a suit before, that wasn't really something he'd put down as a fantasy of his either. Digging up remnants of what Lian Yu had taken from him was full stop, nothing he'd ever do on purpose.

_So then why this, now?_

With that one particular moment with Tommy, Oliver at least knew what to do. Relive that same moment, half-coercing Tommy into sex so he could get relieved of his accursed heat. Granted the Alpha had been just as enthusiastic about it when they'd gotten going, still the default blame was on him. By extension, that was only further betraying Laurel, the once love-of-his-life Omega.

She was just another person he couldn't have. Someone he couldn't do anything for, not just by biology's standards. After abducting her half-boyfriend, half-ex at the time for a night, Oliver could barely bring himself to look at her, let alone make civil conversation.

Maybe if the two had never tarnished his dead memory by pawning off each other… Then he would have had a much easier, guilt-free time swiping _his_ 'best friend' away for ambiguous screwing around.

It was just another way that Oliver's mind would continue to plague itself.

Tonight's failure in taking down Cyrus Gold could be added to that list, Oliver Queen's would-be failures. Not just to himself, but to the people of the city.

"You're awfully quiet," the ghost rasps, and Oliver's almost disappointed he hasn't left after ignoring him for so long.

This, on the other hand, was _not_ a head trip he had experience with.

Break out of it; he needed to get out of this trance. How was he going to—his scars and tattoos, they would ground him. He never remembered all of them in his dreams; in fact, he would sometimes purposely drown them out. Purge out his imperfections, signs of the pain and suffering he had to endure on the island.

Three tattoos, about half a dozen notable scars—that's what he was looking for.

He wanted to move his hands to dance over his chest, look for the no-lie signs of reality. But his hands feel trapped within his archery gloves, thoroughly clammy and shaking, where Oliver has left them wrapped around his sides.

"You died. You can't be here," Oliver finally responds, now confident in his ability to ward off Not-Slade.

One leg dragging behind him, he groans as he moves for his bow. That had been his original intention, so maybe if he could just get it, this reality lapse would all blow over. Oliver then feels his insides all freeze up.

"So did you, yet here we. Reunited at last," Slade coos, and Oliver just feels his stomach tie itself in even more knots.

His heart's pounding in his ears, everything around him is scorching. When he goes for his bow, leaning over, one arm still cradling his abdomen, everything worsens. Slade's ghost moves too fast for his eyes, Oliver nearly tripping over as his stomach sears painfully.

"You were my friend," he tries to explain; trembling in the arms of the other when Slade prevents him from failing over.

Apologizing to the mirage was all Oliver could think to do. Even though glowering at Slade was the first thing he thought to do, his throat had tightened up and apologizing in his head was so much easier than it was in real life. Not-Slade eases his head over one shoulder, despite the height difference between them.

_Exactly_, this only further confirmed his suspicions on this hazy matter.

He wouldn't get hurt in a dream. Especially one where the pain wasn't already pre-determined, like his heat and the blows from Cyrus Gold he'd taken, panging him here. In reality, the real Slade could—and had—hurt him; in return he had done the same. Yet here Slade's arms are tight around his torso, awkwardly positioned as Oliver can still feel his lower body still intent on collapsing out from underneath him.

It was all too much. Going after Cyrus Gold, his heat cycle, this figment of his imagination appearing. In spite of tremendous stamina, the exhaustion of it all had to his undoing somewhere. Better in his head, then outside where his family and friends could worry about it.

_Let go_, his reasoning whispered, as Oliver clasps the forearms of the Alpha around him. Even in a dream, he still recognized Slade's scent. Alpha, silently intimidating, just like Shado's had been. Normally, he would hate to be this close to an Alpha whilst in heat. But right now, his pain was consuming everything else, he could let go—it was blissful.

Safe, not safe, it didn't matter right now.

"And friends come back for one another; I've come back for you now," Slade says, and Oliver feels his head being titled upwards.

An eyepatch covered the Alpha's right eye, the one Oliver had stabbed into with an arrow. It feels detrimental to himself to look at it, silently cringing, but he notices something else while doing so.

Slade's eye—his gaze—it's wrong, oh so wrong. It's sullen, not fiery—resentful, not hostile. In the past he doesn't think he's ever seen the Alpha look at him this way.

His consciousness would never be this easy on him, so uninvolved in tormenting him.

That's when he knows, and Not-Not-Slade must recognize the dilation in his eyes as shock. Oliver jolts backwards out of Slade's arms, rounding on his heel. He feels his lungs contract violently, exhaling quickly like he's just taken another blow to the stomach.

This was real, as real as it could get.

Slade had just killed that Alpha, and now he was in a position where he could possibly do the same to him. Breaking into a tiresome sprint, the bow catches Oliver's foot—where it was still left on the concrete. It breaks his gait, and everything tilts sidewards towards the ground.

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Oliver doesn't even try to break his fall on the way down to the concrete. That's worrisome, Slade quickly making sure to prevent the Omega from planting his face into the ground, so as not to further obtain a possible concussion. Catching him around the waist, Oliver's already gone, for the most part, limp.

Flipping him back upwards, Slade makes for a pulse. It's already been several seconds since the blonde went down, out for more than a few minutes would suggest something other—and worse—than a brief lapse of consciousness.

Still hanging clumsily in his arms, Slade snorts and just heaves Oliver into his arms to check his vitals. Eyes half-lidded, the Omega doesn't stir when he begins the walk back to his car, feeling for the other's carotid artery.

It's nearly midnight, and the streets are deserted, so Slade trusts that sign of absence enough that he can safely flip back Oliver's hood, getting to his neck. Right now, Slade could collapse his windpipe before the Omega knew any better.

That was no sufferance however, real pain meant Oliver Queen had to repent. Pay for what he'd done.

On Lian Yu, with bodily pain, the former might have been possible. Here it is not. Oliver is stronger, a much stronger Omega than he looks, but he had failed to kill Slade last time.

Slade's disgruntled, but manages to control himself enough to not rip Oliver's voice box out, fingers on his neck. Pulse is there, smooth, though he should still be chewing out Brother Blood for letting Cyrus damage Oliver this badly. Nothing seemed to be seriously wrong with the Omega; suddenly collapsing could always be something other than exhaustion however.

Slade did not have much medical training from ASIS; taking Oliver to a hospital was out of the question though. In spite of being unconscious, Oliver Queen was still a very, pleasing Omega in heat, and only he was going to be allowed the pleasure of tearing the other's life apart.

Although opulent, Oliver's scent wasn't what he was used to it being, scent neutraliser only just now starting to wear off as it was sweated away. It made hauling Oliver's ass to the Lamborghini a lot easier than what it could have been, not like some of the earlier times he'd been around the Omega near his heats.

Sebastian really should have been doing this, but he'd been sloppy recently. This was one task, although he didn't expect to have to make his move this early, that couldn't be done half-assed. Sebastian was at least able to do these things inconspicuously though, Slade walking around, even at night, was counter-productive.

Oliver Queen had eyes everywhere after all, even the Glades.

Here, Oliver was just ungainly—a lot easier to take than expected; his eyes had been dilated, he'd been practically weak as a kitten. Very much out of it.

Especially know that he was able to easily toss Oliver into the passenger seat. Or do so gently, not needing the other anymore damaged than he already was.

An eye witness still had to be killed, yet if The Vigilante hadn't walked straight to him, there could have been more. Brother Cyrus had been right, for an Omega he would have been irritatingly hard to track. Now it was just to make sure he doesn't wake up early than wanted.

It'd been nearly a minute or two now, so if he wants to further knock Oliver out, Slade would just have to bank on nothing else going wrong. Which he could just do by punching Oliver in the face, but then Slade could always send the Omega's nose cartilage into his brain as well.

Less forcefully was going to have to be the approach.

Still bending over in the car, Slade pulls the sleeves up on Oliver's wrist. Which moves only marginally, catching on the arm bracers there. Oliver groans at the touch, while he quickly pushes down on the blonde's wrist pressure point.

Usually it would have taken a couple minutes to stimulate natural sleep this way, but Oliver's already out of it enough and with his strength the process is almost instantaneous.

Head slumping back downwards, Oliver looks like he succumbs to a deeper, more natural sleep, where hopefully he'd stay for at least the next half an hour.

Strapping Oliver in, Slade moves back around the car to the driver's seat, pondering whether to strap Oliver to a chair or leave him somewhere more comfortable to rest off his exhaustion.

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Before Oliver's even fully awake he knows something is wrong.

Feels it in his bones, that thankfully aren't thoroughly aching. Amidst just wanting to stay sleeping, the former is what tips him off.

The lack of cool steel or gritty concrete underneath him either causes him to jolt upwards with confusion. This was not—as Diggle had coined it—the Arrowcave, or the streets of the Glades.

With the cushioned bed beneath him he could have been home—could have.

Seeing as Oliver was still in his Arrow getup the former was out of the question, long before he even needed to further question his current location. The scent here was not the familiar one of home, Oliver notices, sense of smell having strengthened during his heat and with the hormone off-balancers now starting to leave his system.

It was sterile, though the most predominant dynamic was that of an Alpha, occasional Beta.

Groaning, Oliver gets up before cringing, before inhaling deeply.

He has no idea where he was, or really needed to know at this point, only that Slade Wilson had him. And that he was alive.

It'd been a long time since he'd let himself mourn for Slade, and he could do the same now. Though the former emotion is eclipsed by how wholesomely pissed off he is.

He snarls, staggering to his feet where he finds his bow on a wooden dresser. It's accompanied by his quiver, which is weird that the Alpha thought to leave him armed.

Slade had survived though… which meant his arrows were going to be ineffective here. Unless maybe this time he thoroughly gouged out his organs.

There's a window in the room, beside the double bed. Which should surprise him, being a free captive, rather than chained up somewhere, but Oliver wasn't going to complain over Slade's supposed negligence. Though he'd been out for longer than expected, possibly drugged, as his heat was no longer ignorable like he'd managed to do before collapsing anyway. There's no clock in the room, so he can't be sure how much time has passed.

But, the scales had been tipped and now he was just aching with need.

Oliver focuses on the window again, where if necessary; it wouldn't be hard for him to make a getaway. The nearest building would be a painful drop down, but not unbearable should given enough time to nurse his current limp.

Oliver's not intent on running away however; too many elements had just fallen into place to allow that, even in his weaken state. People had started dying just over a month ago because of the Mirakuru injections, now he had a face and a name to hold accountable.

Everyone who had gotten it so far had died, except Cyrus Gold who had pulverised him twice now. No doubt the Alphas were chummy together, though being left for dead earlier today and whisked away by Slade now didn't add up.

Either Cyrus wanted him dead, for whatever reason, Slade no longer wanted him dead, or there was a middle man somewhere. The pecking order didn't exactly all up to Oliver, but what did was that Slade was trying to create more super soldiers in Starling City.

Likely not for harmonious reasons, though Oliver's still alive at this stage. If he was meant to been dead, he would have been by now.

Steeling himself, Oliver knows he has to be prepared to put Slade down… again. This time for very different reasons. Whatever was going on, this was not the person he had once known. That knowledge hurts him, but so does innocents in the city dropping dead for no reason other than to further one's own goals.

Dig and Felicity were no doubt on their way by now. Too much time had passed and even Oliver doesn't really know where he is anymore. The well lit up scenery out the window tells him it isn't the Glades.

Fingers crossed, he has to hope they don't come.

He hasn't had a chance to scope out potential threats outside this room let alone is equipped to protect them in this situation—likely not even just himself. Now being off the streets, there were only two common options his friends could come to.

Someone or something had gotten him, or he'd pinned down and found their main problem, where hopefully it could be cut off at the source.

In this case both.

Cursing, he knows he should have brought the Bluetooth to assure Felicity he was okay, that there was no need to come. Lying was never his strong suit though, and he'd be misleading himself to say he wasn't in the least bit anxious.

This whole situation is just screwed up.

Throwing his quiver around his back, Oliver's hand spasms when he reaches for his bow. Everything still hurt and his body seared with heat. _Why now, why now!_ His inner thighs were now thoroughly wet with slick, again, leather sticking to nearly every aspect of him. It's bothersome, not in his heat's usual inconvenient way, but that he could just lie down and submit to those urges.

More easily than usual.

It must have been the overpowering Alpha scent everywhere in this place, domineering even by the dynamic's standard.

Panting, Oliver resists the urge to crumple back onto the bed. His sleep before must have been unnatural because he doubted he could try to sleep through this hell gripping him.

Making for the door, Oliver tries the doorknob, careful not to rattle it loudly. It twists in his hand with ease, _unlocked_. There was no way of telling whether the door was guarded or would trip off an alarm if he opened it though. At least not from the inside. Trusting his nose tells him of no terribly close scents, so he just had to be prepared to scope for possible exits should things go south.

Oliver throws his hood back over his head, the comfort of it gratifying, empowering. Tucked away in his apparel was still the voice filter, active, if he needed to play The Arrow with anyone who wasn't Slade Wilson.

This was possibly a very bad idea, but Oliver Queen had a plan, granted a possibly unexpected one.

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Slipping through the ajar door he was holding open, Oliver makes it out of his former cell unassailed.

The hallway he finds himself in is dark, not having the benefit of superficial light that the previous room did, flitting in through here absent windows. The place is practically smothered in expensive furnishings. That made him think hotel, but the atmosphere was far too quiet to be a public place. It had upper living quarters though, so that suggested corporate headquarters.

_For what?_

It's weird to think that Slade would be among the one percent of the city's wealthy, which only opens up more questions for Oliver to assault the man with. He hadn't brought Oliver here to just let him uncover whatever secrets this building held, so now just to locate the Alpha.

Irritation burns in him almost as much as his heat does, whilst he treads carefully on the carpet, out of habit more than necessity. Walking heel-to-toe, right leg protesting his swift movements, Oliver stills when he notices a break in the seemingly non-stop doors in the corridor.

It was a recession in the wall, likely a larger area, which carried the largest quantity of Alpha scent—Slade.

Executing a silent roll, Oliver moves hastily into an alcove of the room. Even under the cover of darkness, he knew this was where the Alpha was purely by scent. Its dark, but there's dim light at the end of the room which is only about six feet away. Oliver feels his breathing hitch when he looks over and notices Slade. The sight causes him to stiffen and heart burn with feelings of regret.

Almost relief too that Slade was alive. Here in Starling, annoyingly enough, but not dead.

His earlier originally presumed dream held true to the real thing. Slade's got his head down, looking over something, though it isn't hiding the protective cloth over his right eye. The eye obviously had never healed, which gives him the sense that at least these Mirakuru soldiers weren't completely invincible.

_No_, that was so wrong to think, especially considering he had been the one to…

Oliver stops gawking, which allows him to recollect his thoughts. Putting matter over mind, he ducks further into the foyer. In front of him there's a pillar which he manages to land with his back to. His movements are quiet but the cry of pain he lets out is not.

Stomach stabbing him, his thighs became wet again from where they previously had just become a sticky dry.

Teeth buried into his lower lip, Oliver silences himself, praying he wasn't that loud.

"That was stupid," Slade calls, confirming he's been heard.

Grumbling, the Omega pulls himself up off the floor and out from behind the pillar. There was no point in hiding anymore, though he does pull his bow up to chest height, other arm preparing to reach for his quiver. Slade doesn't show any initiative of moving from behind his desk, but Oliver keeps his distance by the pillar anyway, knowing Slade could close that distance between them almost instantaneously.

"Why are you here?" Oliver barks, voice deep and threatening in spite of his internal agony.

Up close, he can see that Slade looks noticeably aged, but not at all worn. His hair has greyed around the tips and his face looks noticeably harsher. Still, Oliver remains at a distance, knowing better than to underestimate his opponent, especially in their territory.

Oliver can only snort at Slade's response.

"Well, this is my office, and you're in in."

Refusing the urge to ask how long the Alpha knew he was ducking about the room, Oliver guesses the whole time, scent possibly having giving him away. He'd grown out of doing such dynamic entries, where he used to just enter with the proclamation of "you have failed this city".

At least the comfort of having his bow and hood on him hadn't worn off.

Unsatisfied with Slade's sarcastic answer, Oliver starts to move through his list of questions.

"Why now then, letting me know you're here? Why after all this time? You obviously haven't just showed up in Starling City, people have been dropping dead because of the serum injections for over a month now," Oliver hisses, before trailing off, "You let me think you were dead!"

"Because I didn't intend to reveal myself this early, this—" Slade motions around them at nothing in particular, "was a most unforseen complication. You saw how rough Cyrus was with you. If I let you go now, I doubt you'd be able to defend yourself if something like that were to happen again."

Oliver scowls, rotating his head around as if looking for possible escapes. There's none in the darkened room, so he'd have to back down the hallway again if he needed to make a run for it. Outrunning Cyrus Gold had been hard enough, doing the same with Slade Wilson might have been impossible.

"In fact, you might not survive the encounter," Slade speaks, easing up out of his chair,  
"pretty little Omega like yourself, Unbonded, walking home alone, an Alpha can't always be asked to control themselves."

Oliver sparks up at what Slade appeared to be insinuating. It irks him to no end how much Alphas either seemed to pity or exploit Omegas in heat.

Superstition said that an Omega's rage during their heats was unparalleled. Matched only by how insufferable their heats were for the lengths of time since they'd last been rutted.

He'd show Slade had powerless he could be at his hands.

"Really then? I'd like to see you try," Oliver hisses, allowing himself to gravitate towards the Alpha so that they were barely a foot apart.

The emotion that sparks in Slade's face is clearly pure fury, though Oliver doubts he can be as resentful as Oliver feels. Slade had let him think he was dead, and that pain felt like it had stayed with him forever. Being alive and well, that might have made things better, but it definitely didn't when everything so far pointed to Slade being out for his hide.

How, and what, exactly the Alpha was doing didn't matter, because when Slade snaps back at him, it's only to trudge up more memories of the past.

"I kept my hands off you when no one else did. You think I didn't relish putting my hands through Ivo after knowing what had he done to you. Done to Shado. I knew he didn't keep his hands off you, neither could Fyers. But I gave you the benefit of the doubt; let you wallow in your self-pity, because I could be the better man," Slade jabs.

Oliver snorts; wanting to brush off what he knew the other was talking about, but feeling the effects of that memory all the same.

It may as well have been Slade's own fault. If he hadn't run off in the first place, Oliver and Sara would have never had to chase after him.

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Returning to the plane had been, for the most part, a waste of time.

Sara and he had spent the night there, further putting them possibly days behind wherever Slade had run off to. Also with the Mirakuru. That alone is an uncomfortable enough thought, he and Sara—still very much city kids shipwrecked on an island—trying to navigate this wilderness alone.

It might have been incredibly humiliating to admit aloud, but Oliver had almost become co-dependant on having people like Slade and Shado around to, more often than not, save _his_ hide.

Granted, they were still both intimidating, Unbonded Alphas, his dynamic at least gave off the illusion that he needed them around to protect him. That he wasn't a threat to either of them and that they should safeguard him for procreation's sake.

Yao Fei and Slade, in particular, had surprised him with their amount of restraint around him. It made Oliver believe that when—and if—he ever got back to Starling City, going off the suppressants, that his father had originally patronized to go on, might not be such a bad idea after all.

He really doubts he will though, if he ever gets home. There was still what happened with Fyers, and he hasn't even brought himself to tell Sara the truth about his dynamic either yet.

She was only a Beta, so it lets Oliver's mind go to ease when she's sleeping not even several feet away from him. It's a double-edged sword though, because around other Omegas and Betas he might be able to breathe a sigh of relief, their—particularly his own—survivability likely dropped with the lack of naturally battle-suited Alphas by them.

Even disregarding Oliver's previously luxurious lifestyle, and a total lack of wilderness survival instinct, it was always beneficial for Omegas to associate themselves with Alphas for protection's sake. Usually, he would have never listened to a lot of that crap, but at the end of the day he wants to live.

Wants to get the opportunity to apologize to Laurel, wants to one day see his family again. Full stop, he just wanted to get off this prehistoric island where it'd become a daily activity to lather himself with dirt.

It had been a long time since the act had been degrading for Oliver and evolved to become a survival tactic.

Several weeks after he'd first became stranded on the island, Yao Fei— his mysterious caretaker—had been the one to suggest it, or rather implement it.

Malnourishment kept his body from exerting itself too quickly, but when the weeks bled into months, eventually his body had to buckle and just ovulate anyway.

Regardless of how perilous and self-sabotage it could end up being.

If Yao Fei suspected anything earlier he didn't say it. Oliver had almost come to think the only reason he was being kept alive was, again, reproduction's sake. They were stuck on an island, an Alpha keeping him alive wasn't exactly reassuring, especially when he was dependant on them to survive.

Ultimately it just seemed like the more logical alternative, the alternative Oliver would naturally be led to believe, rather than an Alpha just doing it all out of the kindness of their heart.

Yao Fei's gone when it first happens, out, having sealed the cave too, when Oliver collapses to his knees, curling in on himself. _So long_, it'd seemed like he'd been on the island for so long he should have worked out a viable strategy for managing his heats.

Or at least what to do in them to prevent himself from becoming an Alpha's bitch.

The people on this island had so far shown to be less than hospitable, so maybe they'd just kill him instead?

At least them he wouldn't have to live with the embarrassment of it all.

Without the hormone suppressants at his fingertips, it felt like his whole life could have been falling apart. Which it was—and it had—his father had still shot himself after all, but having more _girly_ hormones to deal with that were no longer being nullified, was not helping either.

It would cause tears to well up in his eyes for no reason and it made Oliver seriously doubt he'd ever see the light of day outside of this hellhole again.

Like a knife in his gut though, he's reminding being an emotional wreck is not the worst of it, the heat is, now feeling like its churning his insides up into mince. Oliver can't be sure if Yao Fei is coming back—or what his response to this will be—but regardless, he needs to try and get his relief on his own. Just like he always had.

No matter how desperate, this man was still practically a stranger at the end of the day, and he was _not_ going to let himself be willingly knotted by just anyone. Preferably not at all.

It was different when he wasn't on the receiving end of things, yet he'd never gotten anyone pregnant either. Omega males could still come, though it was like they were born having a vasectomy.

After agonizingly long hours, Oliver stiffens up, smelling Yao Fei returning.

Hand still down his pants; he doesn't make to remove it, still intent on pleasuring himself as much as possible, despite the awkward situation he'll be caught out in. _Fuck being embarrassed._

At home, Oliver expects he'd be ridiculed for coming out as an Omega, here none of that matters. He's lost all status or anything that still meant anything in the world to him besides survival.

"Bèn," Yao Fei scorns, when he walks in after removing the rock from the cave entrance.

Oliver takes it as an insult even if he has no idea what the man is saying.

Light flitters in from outside, which feels like forever since he's last seen it. Though despite possibly feeling like he should make a run for it, Oliver still continues pushing fingers inside of himself, trying to stroke that pleasurable spot just out of reach.

Yao Fei doesn't really take notice of him and neither does he pay him much attention, Oliver keening as he feels his digits grow sticky from his touches. When the Alpha places a hand on the small of his back, smearing dirt into the fabric of his clothes, it is kind of hard for him not to take notice though. Intrinsically, Oliver flinches when the other puts his hands on him, granted he was being covered in dirt.

Still in the same clothes he was shipwrecked in, Oliver's consistently been filthy the entire time. Moving to try and slap Yao Fei's hands away from him is difficult, Oliver still awkwardly positioned, he protests when the other rubs muck over his neck.

"What are you doing?" Oliver groans, mind too clouded by desire to allow himself to be embarrassed at this stage.

"You no survive with scent like yours. You need mask yourself; otherwise they find you much easier," Yao Fei explains, not paying Oliver's pheromones much attention.

Maybe the Alpha was once Bonded, because he doesn't seem at all interested. Possibly still could be, though Oliver was not picking up a trace of any other on him.

Although at first disgusting, Oliver would eventually grow into the habit of smothering his skin and clogging his pores to better conceal his natural scent. Omegas weren't supposed to fight, weren't built to, though Oliver still finds himself lean and lethal enough from months of hellish training.

It's nearly morning, and he's reminded, weeks, it'd been weeks since he'd last gone into heat. This would be his tenth heat so far on the island.

But they were supposed to go out and look for Slade again today.

Scuffling out of the shell of the plane, Oliver drops to the ground and fists handfuls of dust up. He still had time, possibly a dozen hours, judging from the overheated yet not crippling sensation burrowing under his skin. Until then, he could manage.

Slade was more important, making sure the Alpha didn't do anything stupid either was more important at the moment.

The sun's rising high in the sky when Sara turns to Oliver, the two of them trekking nowhere in particular in pursuit of Slade. "Your scent's funny," the Beta quips bluntly.

They'd been around each other for far too long and seen too much together to dance around a matter. Oliver can't help roll his eyes; eventually no amount of masking would hide his impending heat at this close a distance.

It's not like he was trying to hide the truth from her, it had just involuntary become the status quo for him.

Slade and Shado had both found out, though maybe as a Beta, Oliver would be able to hide it from her just that little bit longer. Anything to savour his pride from the looks he'd come to expect if people ever found out the truth.

Shado… her bow and quiver were slung over his back and her hood cloaked over his head. Her Alpha scent covering its fabric was comforting even in her passing, not quite as threatening as Slade's was. It wasn't so much a protective defence to wear her hood now that it was a consoling one.

It was hard not to be attracted to Shado, in the first place, especially when Oliver couldn't think of any women who had resisted his charm before. Even Sara had admitted past feelings for him, granted Shado had no idea who he was and he didn't have a plethora of money at his fingertips any longer so as to shower her with gifts.

Thinking about her was painful though, especially when he felt he should have been the one to die in her place.

"I've been on an island for over a year now, Sara. I don't exactly still smell like leather—" Oliver starts to deflect her comment, after a noticeable pause, when he comes to a sudden halt.

Sara stills behind him as well at the sudden sound of undergrowth crunching underfoot. Resisting the urge to call out, knowing it was likely Slade, Oliver's waits to smell the familiar Alpha's scent.

Wrong, wrong—it was not Slade. Beta scent, Alpha, though mostly Beta—not Slade at all.

Sara and he both bolt as Ivo's men—he assumes—burst out from the surrounding forest. The two of them scatter, not exactly in the same direction either.

Ivo's men may have had guns, but they had the advantage of knowing this terrain and area a lot better than anyone else likely did.

Despite really needing to run for his life right now, the added pain set in by his heat; makes the task difficult for Oliver. Sara's reassuring scent was no longer by his side, strength in numbers after all. Though splitting up to both draw Ivo's men in different directions might have meant an easier task of outrunning them, at least in theory.

His lungs flare up with stitches stabbing him across either side. Everything around him was just a blur of trees and shrubs, twigs whipping him across the face every now and then. Oliver had no specific destination in mind except _away_. Worry about Sara later, she was probably doing better than he was, just get the hell out of here.

When his stomach contracts sharply though, Oliver has to come to a halt, sliding down a nearby tree trunk as he nearly collapses. _Why now, why now_. The pain never seemed to become much easier to bare, legs turning to lead as he tries to fight his way back onto his feet.

There was no noise around him that seemed to indicate that he was still in pursuit of, though that isn't much reassurance in his mind.

Where was Slade when they needed him?

Cocking his head to one side, Oliver makes another glance to check that the coast is clear before involuntarily dropping to the ground. It was only sheer willpower that was keeping him standing.

Glancing to his left, that resolve quickly gives out as Oliver feels a hand snake around his mouth from the right. He goes to shout and protest, knowing the distinct Beta that was holding him—Ivo.

Any attempt to scream or struggle is quickly pulverised out of him though as hard metal slams into his face.

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Oliver manages to bring himself back to the present when he feels his insides flare up again. _Dammit_, it had all been Slade's fault and he knew it. He was steadily growing more agitated, though he still had a plan—play it cool, and everything would be okay.

"Why the hell did you take me then, dammit? Last time you were around me in heat, I gouged out your eye! Are you asking me to take your other?" Oliver seethes, in pain, not wishing to deal with anymore Alphas at the moment.

Slade was just asking for it right now, and if he continued to do so he was going to give it to him. Even though the Alpha could kill him and no one would ever likely know any better, Oliver doesn't doubt his control over the situation. Slade hadn't wanted him to know he was alive at this stage; hence this put them on more equal footing.

The Alpha arches back up at him, looking like he's refraining from hitting him.

"You should be thankfully, right now that I'm looking out for you," the Alpha comes out with, though it sounds odd on Oliver's ears.

This was not how he would have anticipated a reunion between them, not that it would ever have been hugs and happy welcome homes to begin with.

It sounded like Slade was trying to say he was protecting him, though if he hadn't stuck Cyrus Gold on his ass in the first place he wouldn't have to, now would he? It was so stupid, though Oliver can see where the bad blood between them has likely stemmed from.

There was far more at stake here than just his own life though, and no matter the cost, the people of Starling City had to come before him. His friends and family, he couldn't let Slade get to them.

Even though attempting to kill, or just put a stop to, Slade again feels almost just as painful.

That wasn't the way The Arrow did things anymore, though he'd made the exception for The Court when Felicity was being threatened. If it didn't come to that, for now perhaps Oliver could lay off trying to stab the Alpha in the brain again.

Of course he wouldn't let him know that, couldn't appear lax in the face of the enemy.

"I can take care of myself," he growls, feeling his insides turn to mush.

He wasn't actually sure how much restraint he'd have in his heat, creeping up on him so suddenly. Last time things went south he'd gotten Tommy half-drunk so he could be half-knotted. Slade was digging at wounds he wasn't aware the Alpha had picked up so acutely on and it made him feel all the more vulnerable right now.

Slade doesn't seem to take notice of what he's just said though, continually just getting up in his face.

"Then you go and put your hands all over Shado, and you know what, she could have done the exact same to you. But you were just too soft, never seemed to understand what Shado and I did for you. Unbonded Alphas, if it wasn't for us, Fyer's men would have been on you within days. Bloody near gave us all away."

"I survived long after you were out of the picture, five years on that godforsaken island. Nearly four years on my own," Oliver hisses, lashing back at the other implying his weakness.

It was amazing how he'd managed to keep his bow lowered at this stage, but obviously verbal abuse was turning out to be more painful for the both of them.

"Perhaps you did," Slade quietens, "but that doesn't change the fact that you were a struggle just to be around _every day_."

He is so sick of this shit.

Quickly he drops his bow and Slade quirks an eyebrow at him like he's just been caught off guard. Oliver disarms himself and sneers dangerous at the other.

"Yeah," Oliver leers, opening his jacket, "how about now?"

Within a moment he's tossed his top and quiver aside, letting it drop wherever. Stripping his jacket off his voice also returns to its normal pitch, lighter, nowhere near as heavy as it was before.

It's only momentarily, but Oliver sees the look of surprise—no, shock—cross Slade's face. He lets out a breath of relief he didn't know he'd been holding, allowing the full brunt of his pheromones to waft over him.

It was light, musky with subtle metallic undertones like usual, probably credit to the environment he lived in. It's expensive, like leather and it causes Slade to tense upwards, reeling backwards slightly, as if stunned. If he wasn't right on his heat, it could possibly pass for a Beta's smell.

Oliver chokes back a laugh, watching Slade compose his flustered self and turn away from him. It was basic instinct, an Alpha should know better than to harm an Omega. Slade on the other hand, smells like sandalwood and salt water, what he guesses is the outback Australia.

It might have been incredibly low exploitation of him, but sexual attraction was just another means to an end for Oliver Queen.

Hopefully.

"You're asking for it, kid," Slade growls, turning back to him, looking slightly more in control of himself.

Oliver resists the urge to shudder, now that's he's practically half-naked.

"Where'd you get that?" Slade glowers, coming back over and poking a finger into his left ribcage.

The eight-pointed star over Oliver's left pectoral, he recognizes it somewhere. Military. ASIS knew most of these symbols, rival and ally associates. This was definitely not a friendly associate.

Oliver just slaps his hand to the side, probably not expecting that sort of a reaction. He glances down and realises Slade is looking at one of his many tattoos.

"What's it to you?" Oliver spits back, having seemed to have peaked the Alpha's interest.

He has plenty of questions of his own, until he got some answers, neither would Slade.

Not sure what to do with arms, feeling slightly awkward like he should put his shirt back on, Oliver just folds them over the tattoo Slade seemed so interested in. That doesn't last very long though as Slade quickly pulls his arms down and has him backed into a pillar.

Nearly tripping over, Oliver hisses at Slade's grip on forearms. His pain tolerance was a lot lower than he was used to with his skin already feeling like it was on fire. The slightest touch was irritating as he feels the breath get knocked out of him.

This was getting very irritating, granted Oliver was playing the blame game too. Maybe he ought to just buckle now as he'd definitely be giving Slade what for later.

"Bratva," Oliver offers, panting.

Slade backs off him for the moment but remains close enough that he can take in the man's scent.

"I should have known, a mob—not military. There's no honour in the mafia!"

The tattoos were far more common motifs when their gangs were more structured in prison. In Asia, stars worn on the knees usually signified the owner would kneel to no one. The chest: dictated rank as a thief, likely high-up—captain. Slade used to be ASIS, possibly still could be, so Oliver's not surprised that the tattoo he was given by Anatoli Knyazev would send off some warning bells in his head.

"You do realise, if I die, Bratva will not take it well? I have had contact with our leader within the last month, it would not do well for me to up and die. People would take notice, and those people would know it as no accident," Oliver threatens, although knowing Slade is unlikely to kill him right now.

It wasn't a lie either, and although he hadn't done much for the mafia other than pull their leader out from Ivo's ship, Anatoli definitely liked him.

Other than Diggle and his sister, he was one of the only Alphas that Oliver had ever managed to be completely comfortable around.

Hell, he'd pretty much proposed when they'd first met.

"Why didn't you get off the island back then, with the mafia?" Slade barks.

Oliver nearly rolls his eyes, having grown sick of questions by now. Slade was ridiculous, far more restraint than any Alpha he'd ever known and he was really starting to feel the intensity of his heat right about now.

_Be calm, be cool_, he pleads with himself. Just answer the stupid question.

He stays by the pillar, rubbing his forearms where bruises were starting to sport up.

"Well, at the moment, I am forever owed the debt of saving the Russian mafia's leader's life, and it will stay that way," Oliver begins to explain, having thoroughly thought about this a long time ago, "Should I have went with him, that obligation would have been likely been forfeit, and I might have ended up a permanent Russian. Even if I didn't, I wouldn't just be able to come back to Starling City as 'Oliver Queen'. Being charted off the island by the mafia also looks a lot more suspicious than me being stumbled upon by Chinese fishermen."

Again, it's not the whole truth, but it's going to have to be enough for now. Slade obviously knows this, just looking at him like he's been spouting bullshit the entire time.

"Are you going to fuck me, or not?" Oliver half-demands, though not at all out of the blue.

His pants were thoroughly soaked with slick by now and Slade must notice that, just shaking his head.

The Alpha growls, turning on his heel and exiting the room.

Oliver takes this as his queue to follow, grabbing his quiver, bow and top on the way out.

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**Author Notes:** "Bèn" means "stupid" in Chinese, according to the internet. Feel free to correct me if it's wrong.


	4. Inverse

**Author Notes: **This chapter was intended to go up earlier though I'm getting shorter on free time these days. However, this chapter is also the longest one yet, it's over 11,000!

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**Chapter 4: Inverse**

Everything so far was going according to plan.

Slade just grumbles in front of him, walking down the hallway. With his jacket in hand, Oliver doesn't bother replacing it over his chest, as he'd rather not have Yao Fei's hood ripped to shreds during intercourse. It was one of the only things he had left to remember such influential people on his life: Shado and Yao Fei, and soon after it had become part of his signature attire as The Vigilante.

Originally, he might have wanted Slade to have it to take some of the guilt off his chest, but now he was fiercely protective of it. Even in all its tattered glory.

Oliver walks slightly pained, trailing after Slade as the Alpha stops in front of one of the hallway's many doors. "Don't think this means anything, kid," Slade comes out gruffly, before letting himself into the room.

Oliver can't help but be quite smug with himself, knowing no matter how much control an Alpha had, no one _should_ be able to resist him. Even as an Omega, he was still very much the quintessential theorized Alpha.

In his father's company, he had legitimate power, over just about everyone there except Isabel Rochev. His unseen connections with the Bratva were threatening enough, even if only one or two people in the city really knew that. As The Arrow, people like Roy Harper were willing to bend over backwards for him at the sake of _justice_.

Although there also were people in the city that thought he was poisoning it just like the men he had once targeted did. There were just as many that thought The Vigilante was their modern day Robin Hood.

Slade no doubt knows all of this, so if anything, the truth about his dynamic likely makes him that much more intimidating. That an Omega would be so undaunted by an Alpha, still getting up in his face, even after knowing that his life was likely still in Slade's hands.

Two could play it that game.

Slade Wilson needed to be preferably put back in his place. Once Oliver ensured that no one else was getting hurt at his expense, then he could work out his next step.

Which for now, he thought, staggering into another exquisite apartment-type room, his current move was getting his dammed heat over with. That way he wouldn't be putting arrows in people on the way back to Verdant to avoid being jumped. Considering Slade had brought him back here in the first place, Oliver wants to say he's surprised the Alpha isn't staking his claim or exerting more dominance over him.

Similar had happened the last time they'd been around each other, and that time Oliver hadn't nearly been anywhere near as cool with it as he was now.

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It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours, when Oliver finally comes to again.

His vision swirls immediately and the urge to hurl is a hard lump in his throat. Around him the area is dark, dank smelling and there's not much indication of anything around him that's telling him where here is.

Darting to his feet, Oliver crumples back downward remembering he's in Ivo's hands.

Moving upwards is near impossible, restrictive material—rope, Oliver guesses—keeping his arms behind his back. Shimming his arms upward is just painful, rope burns threatening to flare up across his wrists. The surface behind him seems to be a pole from what he can see twisting his head around. Panting, the smell of seawater reaches his nose.

_Dammit_, he was back on the boat. The nigh-impenetrable boat.

At least his jaw was moving fine, albeit stiffly. Anything broken in his face would not heal as well as the fingers and toes he's sure have been broken over the months had. It could have just been his heat as well, but it feels like he's been lulled into a drug-induced stupor. Maybe Ivo had drugged him with something?

Trying his best to brush off the fog in his mind, glancing around the room, he finds it mostly empty. Oliver does spot the late Shado's archery equipment he'd been holding onto though. It was tossed aside, not that far. Stretching his leg out, making for the quiver to perhaps use an arrowhead to start gnawing into his bindings, it proves useless as it was just out of reach.

He doesn't see Sara though.

It's doubtful Ivo would keep them captive together after Sara proved a traitor towards him, though there's hide nor hair of her here. Maybe she had gotten away, found Slade and hopefully stayed far away. He didn't want to die here, but if he had to, it would be best if his sacrifice was not in vain.

Ivo was going to hunt them all down to the ends of the earth until he got what he wanted, after all.

Maybe this was his payback for not saving Shado when he could have. Sara might have argued that Ivo was always going to kill her from the start, but it didn't mean Oliver hadn't agreed to save Sara as well.

Cowardly, it was so cowardly—he should have offered himself up in their places. Shado had far more chance of surviving out here than he did where he was just dead weight.

Slade might not have been so distraught then, utterly destroyed by loss… if it had been him. The Alpha had loved her, and so had he, but he should have known better. The last relationship sabotage Oliver had attempted ended with him and the person involved marooned out in the middle of nowhere. Really, he should just keep his hands off everyone, save anyone else getting hurt by him.

Which if he doesn't make it out of here alive wouldn't be happening anymore.

Oliver pulls at his restraints again weakly when he smells Ivo approaching. No matter how deliberated by his heat affliction he was feeling, Oliver would kill Ivo if he got the chance. He'd have to if Slade and Sara were going to be truly safe. Avenge Shado, and maybe atone for one of the many sins he had committed.

Ivo walks into the bunker glowering at Oliver, the Omega able to lunge forward towards him slightly on his feet. The Beta barely flinches as Oliver doesn't go very far, instead just proceeds to pace around his captive. "You should have known I'd come back for you all eventually," Ivo claims, huffing in annoyance.

"You've all been an incredible thorn in my side, granted now that I have you—"

"Where's Sara!" Oliver can't help but blurt out, quickly fearing for her too, from the tone of Ivo's voice.

The Beta just tuts and shakes his head in frustration.

"That ungrateful harlot got away, left you for dead at the very least, but that doesn't matter, she'll get her chance to suffer as well," Ivo seethes.

"How long are you going to keep me alive for then?" Oliver exclaims, wondering when Ivo was going to decide he was no longer 'useful'.

Probably not very long, and although is end is likely near for him, he just wants that bastard to move a little bit closer. Maybe he could headbutt Ivo's skull in.

"However long it takes for your heat cycle to fully set in," Ivo answers as if it was a perfectly natural thing to say.

His insides tightened and all fight seems to leave Oliver as he realises the Beta was going to likely ravage him. Completely eradicate him until he can't help but beg for death anyway. The pheromones he was now letting off, although faint, were definitely that of an Omega. Dirt masking his ass, Yao Fei.

"You're sick!" Oliver yells, yet knowing his heat was going to come on all the same.

There was nothing he could do! Ivo wasn't even an Alpha which made the situation feel that much more fucked up. He wasn't going to do this to get off, no—he was just going to do this to utterly spite him to hell.

"Come now," Ivo only tuts, "I've had Sara willingly at my beck and call for the last year. My usage for you extends beyond your biology; well rather it's your biology I want, just not like that. Sara should rightfully be getting this honour, but Omegas seem better to work with in this situation than Betas."

Oliver doesn't really know what Ivo's on about but the mention of Sara does it for him. This son-of-a-bitch was not going to hurt anyone else. Ivo's barely a foot away from him smirking, when Oliver manages to spit in his face.

Disgusting, yes, but Oliver utterly hated this man's guts.

The Beta recoils, mouth hanging agape, looking shocked at Oliver's audacity. Wiping a hand over his face, Ivo quickly turns on him where Oliver can only back up into the pole he was trapped to.

"You little tramp," Ivo roars, backhanding him.

The force of the other's slap isn't as bad as Oliver's had before. Shado and Slade had done him far worse with a single blow. The motion of it still leaves his cheek stinging though as Ivo digs his fingertips up into Oliver's jaw, causing him to look the other directly in the eyes.

"And you know what, you're the lucky one. You will die quickly but surely and I still have a use for you that extends beyond your death. Everyone else you love will be getting a far more painful punishment, once I get my hands on them," Ivo puts his words vaguely before departing the room dismissively.

Sliding back down to the floor, pulling his knees up to his chest, Oliver begins to shake. Whatever the man had planned for him didn't scare him. His friends' safety was more the issue at hand, seeing as he was likely still a goner.

The stabbing motions that tore up his insides just seemed to grow more violent by the minute. Normally, he'd attempt to sleep his body's natural cycle off but trying to rest in Ivo's grasp felt like suicide. The moment he closed his eyes he might not ever get to open them again.

Ivo returns shortly, and in no time Oliver finds himself gagged for his insolence. Without much strength to fight the Beta off, he just submits and lets it happen. At least gagged he'd be keeping his mouth shut which would prevent him from saying anything else stupid.

His cheek still stung from where he'd been slapped.

Oliver just seethes quietly when Ivo pulls out something far more worrisome from his pocket.

It's a needle and syringe, granted it's been fitted with a safety cap. The content inside of it is a sickly green and Oliver finds himself trying to shrink backwards into the pole he was bound to.

Mirakuru.

_How does Ivo have it?_

Had Slade brought it to Ivo? Oliver highly doubts it as the Alpha was out for justice for Shado's death and would likely kill Ivo at the first chance he got. Struggling against his restraints, he realises that could mean Slade is dead then, a bullet to the head like Shado, which is doubtful even he'd survive.

The dawning of it tears him up inside, that Ivo was probably just picking them off one by one. They were all going to die.

Despite the gag, Oliver still manages a muffled scream of hatred at the Beta. His whole body hurt, muscles ached and now his heart just proceeded to sink in his chest. Ivo seems to notice his distress, the taunting he was causing Oliver.

"Do you have any idea what this serum is made from?" Ivo exclaims, likely not expecting an answer, but going off on his explanation all the same.

Oliver just writhes in his bindings, feeling his tear ducts grow wet with tears.

Maybe Ivo had taken _that _vial earlier from the container, that would mean Slade was still safe? He could hope. Even if Slade had received the Mirakuru himself, he wasn't bulletproof, and it doesn't set Oliver's fears to rest either.

It doesn't matter though, as with one of the serums Ivo could likely reproduce the formula over and over. He could probably take over the world with it, not that Oliver and his friends would likely be around for that long.

Ivo just continues talking anyway as he pulls at the rope around his wrists, no longer caring about the friction burns erupting over his skin.

"Originally, it was an Anabolic steroid, first made in the early 1930s for legitimate medical purposes, and not just for physique and performance enhancement as it is most commonly known for now. Medically, it's a bit of a failure; it's hardly ever prescribed outside of Alphas. In Betas and Omegas it more often than not kills off their reproductive function or at least decreases their fertility to a rate which is undesirable in society and mates."

Barely comprehending a word the man says, Oliver just shudders when the beginnings of wetness creep out his insides. In no way was he looking forward to whatever Ivo intended to do with him, but his biology didn't seem to care that he was currently prey in the lion's den.

"It was found though, that when synthetic versions of these steroids were used in conjunction with exercise, Betas—and particularly an Alpha's—strength could increase by more than 38%, and it was at least that high for Omegas. The Japanese used this—the Anabolic steroids—as their base for The Miracle serum," Ivo just continues, seeming almost gleeful with himself.

A stone drops in the pit of Oliver's stomach amidst all the other discomfort plaguing him.

He was here to play Ivo's guinea pig, that was it.

Not as malicious as he might have originally thought, but still taking this foreign injection into himself did not sound at all pleasing. Especially when it could have very well killed Slade, rather than saved him, and from the sounds of it, he was so much better equipped to deal with it than Oliver was.

"The long-term effects of the steroid though, could often lead to heart damage, liver failure, premature strokes. In World War Two, they began to use this synthetic form of testosterone to help the malnourished gain weight and improve their performance, the Japanese though sought to better this product. Counteract some of the more horrible side effects and break through the previous 38% strength enhancement statistic."

Ivo takes a breath like he's gotten caught up in the sound of his own voice. Oliver just bangs his head lightly back into the pole, not even trying to understand what the Beta was saying but wishing he would shut up all the same. Right now, he's beginning to hope maybe Sara and Slade would come for him. It would mean putting their own lives at risk for his own… but this was just horrible.

Knowing he was going to die a selfish brat, who had only ever gotten everyone else killed along with him. Even after his father had asked him to right his own wrongs.

"Taking the DNA of various different animals, among one of the ones still documented: the _Turritopsis dohrnii_, the Japanese were able to refine the steroid into a very effective serum. Many more Omegas and Betas died in the process than anything else. Realistically, Alphas were usually the only ones to survive the injections, that left the Japanese with only about 28% of the population to create their superhuman army with."

There are tears spilling down Oliver's face onto the fabric pulled between his teeth now. _Damn girly hormones_. He was never usually this emotional but what did it matter now?

Ivo just went on and on with his elaborate knowledge of things that Oliver could only understand to be "not good".

"Far less so, if you're only thinking of the population in Japan and China, and that they commonly would rather use it on males than females. The death of so many Omega and Beta specimens did give the Japanese one idea though. A sort of airborne toxin created from the serum that their planes could fly over and drop into enemy territory. It didn't necessarily have to be a bomb, but it would utterly annihilate large percentages of their population."

Sniffling, Oliver manages to still his crying.

Shado hadn't wept or begged for her life and neither should he. Maybe he'd even get to see her again, not that if there was an afterlife he'd be going anywhere good.

"Even the Omegas and Betas that managed to survive would likely prove to be horrific breeding stock," Ivo smiles wickedly, and Oliver finally thinks he'll finally see the end of this boring montage, "that alone, could cripple society and generations to come if procreation was near impossible. This was how the Japanese sought to create their ultimate weapon. Alas, the research notes left over don't go very far into the creation of this airborne toxin. Apparently, they were still researching the effects the serum had on Omegas when the experimentation had to come to an unfortunate halt."

The Beta sounds disappointed at the lack of anarchy in the world the Mirakuru could have caused. When he turns to Oliver, looking him directly in the eyes though, it doesn't feel like there's a lack of chaos in store for him though.

Ivo's up in his face almost immediately, safety cap off the Mirakuru and now poised in the Beta's hand like a knife to kill. With one arm fastening up Shado's hood collar, Ivo's other is held level with his temple, syringe there.

"This is where you come in. With this toxin, I could save the human race. There would be no war; the world could achieve peace if everyone simply understood where they stood. I need to replicate this serum if I am to get anywhere, so we'll just start with whatever happens to you. An autopsy on an Omega killed during their heat should be interesting," Ivo seethes, coming off as just mad to Oliver.

Lunging forward, the Beta goes to drive the serum into his jugular vein.

At the last moment, Ivo steers off course though and Oliver opens his eyes he hadn't realised he'd shut, when nothing happens to him.

There's noise coming from above them, loud banging that's far too prominent to be more than a floor or so up. Gunfire erupts in the corridors and Oliver practically screams behind the gagging.

Could it be…? Sara and Slade had come for him?

The sliver of hope he has quickly fades as Ivo glares back at him.

"No matter, I'm still going to going to kill you anyway. And now that everyone else has been so kind as to come along, you'll all be seeing each other soon," Ivo finishes, noise erupting around them, before stabbing the needle into the side of Oliver's throat.

The blow is harsh and all his muscles stiffen as his head goes lop-sided, sagging. At that motion, tears flood his eyes again, the world going glassy. Everyone might have come for him now, but it doesn't matter because they were all going to die.

There's white noise all around him, _it's so loud_. It feels like he's waiting forever for the poisonous substance in the syringe to just creep through his veins and kill him already.

His senses have all just given out under a combination of stress, exhaustion and shock. Hopefully no one would mourn his death as much as Shado's, that way they could all still try and get off this island. Forget about him.

Eventually, Oliver collapses on his side as much as his bindings will allow him to. He's got his eyes scrunched up because his final moments don't need to be filled with that bastard Ivo's face. Sharply inhaling, he feels the needle still cocking out of his neck.

_Ugh_, it barely felt like anything had gone into him as he was yet to start convulsing, or anything really. Or at least, that's what happened with Slade before he turned out to be okay. Or as okay as someone could be after having someone they loved murdered.

Still sniffling, Oliver snaps his eyes open at the sound of a loud slamming nearby. It's heavy, like the clap of thunder that accompanies lightening. If his hands weren't trapped behind him he would have made to shield his ears.

Within seconds, there's ringing in his ears and he sees Ivo crumple onto to the floor beside him. _Safe, safe,_ it looks like he'd been saved, though the Beta is still moving, twitching inherently. Oliver could have rejoiced, if there wasn't still a needle of Mirakuru very likely to kill him, still hanging out of his neck.

Perhaps Ivo never got a chance to push the plunger down on it? As long as he could get it out, and nothing went wrong there, he might still be able to live yet.

Ivo immediately begins to wheeze, the breath knocked out of his chest. Oliver can feel himself visibly pale, the Beta making clawing motions towards him.

Out of fear, he makes to wriggle from out from his bindings despite knowing how useless it was. There didn't appear to be anything wrong with the bastard in front of him, and it sure as hell wasn't going to him from getting up again. Help, he needed help—

When Slade flops down next to Ivo's stiffening form, Oliver cries out again, forgetting for a moment he's thoroughly gagged, relief flooding through him at the sight of Slade.

It probably hasn't even been forty-eight hours since he'd last seen the Alpha, but right now it feels like it could have been so much longer. So much longer as he had been confident that he wasn't going to make it out of here alive, had since resigned himself to die.

Slade still looks the same as the last time he'd seen him—_really_ seen him, since he'd been elusive the past few days—Shado's burial. Granted the Alpha was far filthier now then than, and also proceeding to smack the shit out of Ivo. Even practically mute, Oliver wasn't going to argue against Slade's decision to rip Ivo a new one, currently having his face pummelled in.

The site of it makes Oliver's stomach churn on top of his heat, though the Beta definitely deserved it.

Shado was dead, and had Slade been much farther away, so too might have he been. Even though at the moment the Alpha is still glaring mad daggers at Ivo and hasn't seemed to have taken much notice of him yet. The imminent threat of danger does leave him though.

Still being panged by his heat at every slightest movement, Oliver doesn't bother trying to wrestle Slade's attention away from the dying breaths of Ivo.

Vomit crawls up his throat at the bloody mess unfolding in front of him, the last few gurgles the Beta releases, coughing up blood. He can't bring himself to be sympathetic for the bastard, at least now he was safe.

How unfazed he'd become with death upfront over the last couple months should shock him, but right now he was just a shrivelling mess, reliant on Slade to come untie him.

A moment passes, and then another, before Slade gets up from his haunches and the dishelmed remains of the Beta. It looks like Ivo had his face smashed in by a rock. Oliver almost thinks Slade must have been holding back as only now do they both seem certain that Ivo's definitely gone.

The Alpha's strength was certainly intimidating, even before the Mirakuru. One punch could have possibly killed and the rest were just for insuring Ivo stayed dead.

A small proportion of Oliver wants to fear Slade, tremble and submit in the wake of such a powerful Alpha.

But Slade was his friend though, had just saved his life…

Remaining plonked down on the floor; the Alpha's eyes finally meet his own for a moment. There's relief in Slade's eyes, quickly overshadowing the darkened rage there a second ago, where Oliver can only sob, hoping he looks as remorseful as he feels.

Everything throbbed inside of him from menstrual cramps and heartache, just being alive now felt like something that was wasted on him.

His pants were damp with his body's natural lubricant, his face dry with that of tears.

He didn't deserve this, not after Slade, and no doubt Sara, were here to save his ass. Risking their lives for his completely worthless one. Thankfully, Slade doesn't spend too much time looking at how humiliating Oliver imagines he appears. Hands still coated in blood, Slade weaves around him making for the bindings on his wrists.

Rough hands at his back, in no time he's free of his rope restraints. Slade backs up from him, giving him space while Oliver instantaneously goes to yank the deadly serum out of his neck. Pulling it out is quite piercing, like a bee's sting, though only a small blight compared to all the other pain he was processing.

Lightly, he rolls it across the floor away from it, careful not to throw it hard enough that it might break. They probably should get rid of it, but for now Oliver just wants it away from him and not trudging up memories he wants to permanently repress.

Although the Alpha was proceeding to give him some semblance of privacy, Oliver could feel Slade's eyes boring into him vigilantly.

He doesn't ask or say anything about what Ivo was doing with him, for which he's quietly appreciative of.

Wrists freed, Oliver gives them a rub to try and ebb some of the bruising setting in away, before pulling the gag out of his mouth. He remains seated, just licking his wounds and trying to compose himself the best he can. Also trying to avoid looking at the dead Beta too much. Even deceased he couldn't stand the sight of the bastard.

"Thanks," Oliver croaks, not looking at Slade and all the less sure of what to actually say to him.

What could he say?

_Hey, thanks for saving my worthless ass again, sorry I didn't do the same for Shado._

Disappointment, anger, distaste, whatever emotions Slade's face held for him, he didn't want to see it. They don't say anything to one another for a moment.

So it surprises Oliver when Slade doesn't scold him, like he always did, for his insolence.

"'You alright, kid? I didn't know if…" the Alpha trails off, and Oliver knows what he's getting at.

For a moment there, he wasn't sure if he was lying dead on the floor himself or not.

It causes his breath to hitch in his throat and he almost laughs. Not at the Alpha's small show of seemingly concern, but at his own inability to look after himself. How incredibly embarrassing.

Normally he would have never cared what people thought about him, but he respected Slade.

In the beginning, Slade had been hesitant to take him on, a _fragile_ Omega. Which he'd known the truth about his dynamic almost straight away. The Alpha had a nose like a bloodhound after all, no doubt trained to scent out dynamics and abnormalities in people's scent. It made him all the more nervous when Slade berated him about trying to teach an Omega survival skills would just be asking for the death of both of them.

It worked out though, he proved to be a tough enough Omega that the Alpha would waste some of _his_ time on him, trying to shape him into something worthwhile.

_Well, that didn't really work out, now did it?_

As here he was now snivelling, prompting Slade to come over to him and reach out for him attentively.

"Hey, I'm sorry," Slade apologizes, lowering himself to the floor, "I should have been here sooner."

Oliver chokes, pushing himself backwards and putting his hands out, in an attempt to keep Slade from coming any closer.

Although he trusts the Alpha, he was still an _Alpha_ where he was an Omega just starting to come to the pinnacle of his heat. Something that could usually last hours and only now was he starting to pay it much attention. Before he was a bit more preoccupied with the life-or-death situation of Ivo murdering him.

With that issue now firmly out of the way, Oliver could focus at the potentially more disastrous situation at hand.

He was most definitely in heat and Slade was coming towards him. Albeit gingerly.

xxxxxxxx

Slade Wilson did not understand Oliver Queen at all.

At least not post-island, city-dwelling _Beta_ Oliver.

Beta, that should have been funny, that the kid tried and continued to hide his dynamic so thoroughly, his personality giving away no tell-tale signs of an Omega, but it just wasn't. It was stupid, though even his nose was slightly fooled by the scent blocker—key word, slightly.

The rest of him was conflicted between natural impulses and feeling like he is been made an idiot out of.

An idiot because although he'd long known that Oliver was an Omega, his head could still protest otherwise. That currently he was being challenged by another Alpha, or at least a very hot-blooded Beta. Under normal circumstances, Slade dislikes even being challenged by the likes of Sebastian; Oliver however, is a whole other nuisance onto itself.

Oliver's attitude has completely changed from earlier. He hadn't knocked him out that hard either, hell didn't even use force to put him out.

Alpha instinct told him he had an inclined, inviting and ready Omega that he should put out of its misery. Not like how Oliver probably expected he might have been put out of his misery.

Pheromones didn't lie either, and Oliver's—although discreet—smelt like sweet vanilla.

Even if pheromones weren't dynamic-exclusive, those that Omegas gave off in heat were exceptionally important. The potency of that scent, although liable to a lot of other factors as well, usually dictated how fertile they were and if they were ready to bear young. An Omega's richness was less susceptible to falsehood as it told the no-lie facts of wheatear they were keen for sensuality or not.

Furious, cool, distraught, maybe even plain confused Oliver, Slade was prepared for. Carnal fury and near-on hysteria is not what he was expecting. Not to mention, Oliver smelt ripe, not something he could just lie about and try to snuff over him as an Alpha. That meant he was eager, although why was beyond Slade. Maybe snatching Oliver off the streets in an attempt to protect him was the wrong course of action; especially now that he was leading the other to a bedroom.

What the _hell_ was he doing?

It's been years since he'd last bedded anyone, more so years for that person to have been an Omega.

Omegas were scarce in the military fields, though it wasn't impossible for them to bulk up, just unlikely. It was just more often than not seen as hazardous to put society's best raisers and bearers of children in the crossfires of war. Beta females had begun to bust out into the fields the past decade, but that also meant Omegas were slacked more with rebuilding society, should it ever come to that.

They were also incredibly frail, if he did say so himself. Like annoyingly weak. Not necessarily build-wise, just hormonal-wise, and Oliver should possibly consider himself lucky he was never that irritating or he possibly would have killed him back on Lian Yu. From what he'd seen of them, Oliver had also been a whinger through most of his heats.

Now he just seemed pissy, _joy_.

Thinking back, the last person Slade had sex with could have actually been a fellow Alpha. Which was starting to get weird in the eyes of society, but was what you had to deal with saddled with wartime.

Oliver letting himself into the room, Slade decides he needs a drink, preferably something strong, as this situation was starting to go beyond him.

This was one of the only rooms he kept the fridges actively stocked with alcohol in, hence him quickly relegating here, rather than one of the larger rooms that had seen lesser use.

Oliver drops his handful of vigilante related gear off to one side of the king-sized bed before turning around to gawk at him. _What now?_

"What are you doing?" the Omega half-hisses as he pulls a bottle of whisky from a miniature fridge.

Oliver crosses his hands over his chest, though whether to hide his modesty or not was unsure. The kid's already sweating again and twitching obviously out of his own control. The fun being on suppressants for extended periods of time must have been.

"I need to get pissed for this," he gruffly responds, pouring a large heaping of alcohol into a glass.

Shot glasses were not going to work. Slade had long since worked out he needed around a blood alcohol concentration of zero-point twenty or higher before even starting to feel seriously incapacitated. That's four times over the legal driving limit for a normal person.

Also possibly the biggest con to having been injected with the Mirakuru. It would take him several bottles of the heavy stuff to soothe his grief when he got going.

Right now, a bottle should keep from strangling Oliver and nearly killing him during intercourse. He hasn't tried to do anything of the sort since the island, mainly because it was stupid and wasn't exactly getting him anywhere.

Sex involved _way_ more control than Slade thought he was now capable of now, possibly a by-product of his poisoned mind, and having Oliver toss his clothes off willy-nilly was not helping.

He doubts the Omega has ever been with an Alpha before _properly_, so no matter what he'd need to go—_wait_,_ wait_. When and why did he agree to this?

_Fucking heat pheromones._

This was why he only let Blood keep Alphas and Betas under his scrutiny. Omegas were asking for trouble, even if they were out of sight and out of mind. Oliver particularly who had to be the most aggressive Omega ever, and also really wanted to be knotted right now.

The latter of which he should be very suspicious, as even with Shado sex seemed to be a no-no for Oliver if he was expected to be the receiving partner.

It made more sense that the Omega would be trying to seductively ensnare him to try and pull something. Possibly drug him or do something to incapacitate him as Oliver's seems to have found out that he cannot win here by brute force. Or really at all. Though the more Slade has watched a conscious Oliver in his presence, the more the other had dropped his weapons and let his guard down.

Even with the limbs of his bow cracked and still adamantly looking like he'd try to make sloppy usage of it.

Oliver was dropping all his cards on the table, he knew that, and so did Slade.

So the only viable non-stupid, conclusion that Slade could come to was Blood's preacher had drugged him or something of the sort, and Oliver wasn't himself, which he'd kill the Beta for if Oliver was seriously damaged.

The former seems unlikely though and that would mean now Oliver wanted to have sex of his own free will, or as consensual as an Omega's choice could be when they were blinded by heat.

Especially now that he's coming over half-flaunting himself in Slade's face.

"Do I fluster you that much?" Oliver coos teasingly, watching him down a glass of hard liquor.

"No, you irritate me this much," Slade growls back.

Oliver plonks his upper body down onto the granite bench of the kitchenette.

With his shirt off it was obvious the scars he'd accumulated since they'd last seen one another were many and there was little skin left unscathed. Slade doesn't even think he has that many scars from years of field missions. Well, _had_, before the Mirakuru came in and thoroughly healed away any trace of them.

The scars probably looked especially unsightly on an Omega but they showed strength through sufferance.

Omega… Oliver no longer looked the standard Omega.

He was always tall—Omegas males had to be to compensate for the amount of room having both sets of reproductive systems took up, granted one was almost completely vestigial. Any Alpha who thought they needed to be smaller like their female counterparts was just stupid; their internal organs would get too cluttered up. Their ability to reproduce would probably give out before their vital organs did too.

Whereas before Oliver's height was coupled with the typical litheness of the dynamic, now it was accompanied by toned muscles and flexed tendons. The appearance should have looked weird, given he was an Omega, but it looked like he'd filled out nicely during the past few years.

_Jesus_—Blood really should have been doing an interrogation on The Vigilante right now. The Arrow he might have trusted Blood with, Oliver however… no.

Pouring another glass, Oliver just huffs at Slade.

"My body is ready, why aren't you? Making me wait…"

Slade coughs whilst drinking, half-laughing.

There was an underling whine there, though Slade manages to resist what it entails in favour of greater reason. Reason he needed to talk into Oliver before he jumped him and it all went to hell regardless.

"You idiot, you ain't ready at all."

Granted the waves of pheromones coming off Oliver might have suggested otherwise, he was not ready to the standard that Slade was comfortable enough to let himself go around the other. It was too late now to think about backing out so now just to work out the damage control.

"Does _this_ not look ready to you?" Oliver flails his arms over himself hissing, "I don't think I can get any more ready than this."

Lifting an eyebrow in response, Slade leaves the kitchenette to fully face the Omega.

So needy, blue eyes blown dark with desire. It should have been enough to snap Slade's self-control, a long time ago it would have, but right now he knows he could still kill Oliver for vengeance's sake.

What the hell, fucking his brains out was vengeance enough for now.

Oliver shivers, arms cradling the sides of his abdomen.

"You're in pain. 'Ain't gonna work if you're in pain," the Alpha gruffly explains.

Snorting, Oliver just closes the distance between them and pulls Slade's eyes up to better meet his by the Alpha's tie. Their eyes are both dark, slowly dilating from being in close vicinity of the heat pheromones.

"Put me out of my pain then," Oliver growls.

The notion of sound is quickly cut off from him and turns into a yelp, Slade pushing him backwards, so they tripped over onto the bed. Oliver wheezes at the impact though immediately smirks afterwards having the Alpha on top of him.

An expected reaction, no doubt the one Oliver wanted.

Flipping Oliver onto his stomach with ease, Slade gravitates his hands to above the back of Oliver's waistband, hands on his waist, still leaning over him. The positioning is awkward though Oliver quickly loosens up as much as possible, going lax and submissive whilst leering over his shoulder at Slade.

It no doubt fires him up again when the Alpha isn't taking his pants off then.

"What are you doing?" Oliver asks irritably, the Alpha rubbing his thumbs over the small of his back.

Slade doesn't cease what he's doing though, just continues firmly stroking around the spine of Oliver underneath him.

Was Slade teasing him? Was that it? The Alpha didn't seem the type to do it but his ass was right there between Slade's thighs and he didn't seem to care. He was sticky with sweat and Slade no doubt was feeling the dampness of his pants against his leg.

Yet, he wasn't doing anything about it.

_What an asshole._

Oliver goes to slap his hands away and pull out from underneath Slade when the other's hands clasp down over his own.

"I'm helping you, stupid."

"Well, you could help me more by fucking me."

"Nuh-uh kid. You're cramping like crazy and tense as hell, I can't work with that."

"Get it over with then, the sooner the better!"

Slade just quirks an eyebrow at Oliver even as the Omega rolls over onto his back to better glare at him.

"I was massaging your pressure points, relives menstrual cramps," Slade explains, "Beta females in the ASIS used to do it, even though they don't get heats, they still suffer enough every couple of months too."

Oliver wants to call bullshit, that Slade was just making him wait even longer, though through his fury he notices the stabbing in his gut does seem to have lessened.

A dull ache was still there though the worst of it seemed to have blown over. Surprise must have crossed his face as Slade just smiles smugly back at him, knowing he was right.

"How hard is it to stick your knot in my ass?" Oliver just settles for taking another jab at Slade, too annoyed to thank him for elevating his pain even slightly.

Having an Alpha so close to him and not doing anything remotely interesting was driving him nuts. Granted, he still had a plan and Slade was a force to be reckoned with, his higher reasoning was gradually going out the window due to combined aphrodisiacs and pain flooding his body.

"Very," Slade responds to his remark, "especially because I doubt you've ever been with an Alpha."

Oliver just snorts.

"Who says I haven't? I bet I've had more sex than you have."

Slade tilts his head to one side, hoping off the bed while in the process of taking off his suit jacket. _True, but…_

Oliver flips back over on the bed, onto his knees, wading over to Slade so they're about eye height.

"Not like this you haven't."

Oliver's eyes indicate a challenge before Slade swiftly tackles him back downwards. The satin sheets cushion Oliver's fall well enough though don't stop the mixed cry of pain and pleasure the Omega lets out when Slade grips his wrists.

Above the blonde's head, Slade tightly pulls Oliver's wrists between one hand. It wasn't tight enough that he felt the need to struggle but enough to assure him that he was meant to be compliant with whatever the Alpha wanted to do. For now, that was enough for Oliver, flexing his arms to test the strength of Slade's hold on him.

"Don't move," Slade warns, using his free hand to pull apart his necktie.

"Is that a threat?"

Twitching slightly, Oliver finds Slade's grasp to be rock solid. He keeps his legs angled close up around his body, not sure what to expect yet.

Slade just makes gradual work of pulling his clothes off—albeit not forcefully—, awkwardly with one hand. The buttons look to be a struggle and this close Oliver can tell from the way the Alpha's eyes were blown dark his insides were probably going just as crazy as his own were. Only the needy whimpers leaving him and the raspy breathes from Slade broke their continued silence.

Appearing to give up on undoing his shirt after the first couple buttons, Slade just lunges forward, latching onto him.

In an instant the Alpha's teeth are grating over the tendons in his neck, pulling the flesh there into his hot mouth. He shivers as the stubble of the man equally teases over his skin.

It's almost violent, the hard suck of Slade's lips in the crook of his neck and it makes Oliver buck up into the other still elevated over him. The force of his thrust isn't enough to break Slade's kiss on him but is enough to have his pelvis meet the Alpha's own.

There he meets the other man's hardening length, Oliver gasping as their bodies fully touch, even if it is only momentarily. Slade growls, a low rumble that vibrates through his entire chest, moving down the Omega's throat and leaving gradual bruising in his wake with his sucking.

Arms still trapped above him, Oliver pushes up as much as his upper body will allow him, taking in the man's heady scent trapped beneath his shirt.

It's deep, rich—Slade's scent—and he strains his back muscles just trying to edge closer to Slade so he can put his mouth on the other as well, the Alpha steadily moving downwards to his chest, though keeping Oliver where he was.

His body quivers, muscles spasming for a moment, instinctively producing a fresh bout of wet liquid in preparation for what was about to happen. Teeth buried into his lip, Oliver remains ever silent so as not to unleash a slur of curse words.

That control shatters as Slade runs his tongue over Oliver's left nipple.

Oliver moans though nothing eligible, the Alpha taking his perky nub between his teeth. Clawing his hands open, the Omega fists handfuls of air up whilst Slade swirls his tongue over his nipple. The free hand the Alpha had was clasping and rubbing his left pectoral, further pushing him into the man's mouth.

Crying out, Oliver rubs his burning arousal against Slade's own he knows is there, hidden in the man's trousers. The Alpha was now low enough on him it was no longer tiresome to jerk up towards him. Nipping lightly at his chest, Slade signals that Oliver's frustrated thrusts have been noticed and his grasp loosens on the Omega's restrained arms.

It might have been an error on Slade's part though Oliver uses that lack of restraint to bust out of the Alpha's now lax grip, clawing into the man's hair despite its length.

It's coarse and wiry, Oliver gripping around the nape of Slade's neck to pull himself closer to the other.

"Mind yourself, kid," Slade growls, giving Oliver's firm nipple a last flick before leaving it unattended to address the Omega.

Upon closer examination he notices there's dark bruising across Oliver's chest, obviously not from him, he's being exceedingly careful right now. It further pisses him off that Blood hasn't listened to him, would try to take out The Vigilante that was also _his_ Oliver. But he tries not to let it show.

Oliver nearly whines at the Alpha's lack of caressing on his chest, yet Slade's hands quickly weave down to his waistline like they had done before. Interest blooms in him again just as quickly as it had died off, fire dancing inside his stomach.

It's been so long; so long since he was last capable of experiencing pleasure during one of his dreaded heats. Tommy had died nearly eight months ago, that was now bordering on ten since he'd last let anyone see him this vulnerable.

Especially vulnerable, considering this was Slade Wilson, who so far all factors pointed to him wanting to take everything away from him. Utterly destroy him, though Slade wasn't the only one capable of exploiting weakness.

Clambering his limbs over the Alpha's body and trying to speed up the achingly long process of foreplay—Oliver notes, this is not one of them: a weakness he had that could be exploited. Omega or not, Oliver had made a conscious decision to let himself go around Slade. His dynamic might have supposably predetermined a lot of things about him but what it didn't have any say over was whether or not he was weak.

And he wasn't, considering Oliver was capable of thinking that and thrusting his aching cock up into his potential worst enemy's face all in the same moment.

His hands are sprawled over the tense muscles of the Alpha's back, face nuzzled into the brunette's shoulders as he tries, for the most part unsuccessfully, to get Slade to move on top of him. Just do something already!

"God, you're just about begging for it aren't you, kid?" Slade says, remaining ever immobile and seemingly in control of the situation, hands flexing over his waist.

Slade's eyes looked bored though from the stiffened stance of his body he was still holding back.

Why did this always happen? When he wanted an Alpha to fuck him they just spent a lot more time waiting than actually did doing anything.

And Slade was calling him kid again? Where did that come from?

"Don't call me that! I'm not a kid anymore, never was," Oliver corrects, referring back to their time on the island.

Twenty-two is legally an adult—how old he was when he first washed up on Lian Yu—and he'll be twenty-nine in May.

"You're still a kid to me; look at you can barely contain yourself!"

Quickly Oliver's attempts at getting the Alpha to initiate intimacy with him again die off, knowing how ridiculous he must look. The sting from Slade's words doesn't brush off him as easily though.

The Alpha still on top of him, Oliver's cups the man's apparent erection, growling. Slade seems to shudder beneath his touch, no doubt his cock liking the rubbing, though mentally debating what to do from here. Neither mind nor matter seems to win out there as Slade just prowls above him, imposing overhead so that their noses graze and their eyes are locked.

Oliver can see the clouded, no doubt, mixed emotions in Slade's face yet he doesn't cease stroking his length and handling its thickness as best he can through fabric.

"Fuck you!" Slade stutters out, the Omega practically sending all the blood he had in his body down to his dick.

"Then do so!" Oliver cheekily retorts, almost certain the man is growing impossibly harder beneath his touches.

Legs still for the most part spread; Oliver is yanked out of that position when Slade practically removes all the clothing on his lower body with one swift tug. Jerking upwards to better allow the removal of his clothing, he sets to returning Slade's favour, pulling the last of the Alpha's shirt apart.

It's a quick but tedious process and Oliver's mouth almost waters when he unveils the Alpha's bronzed skin underneath all the annoying fabric.

Maybe it was just his over-hyped imagination riding the pheromones but Slade had always been an attractive Alpha. Embodied what a younger Oliver expected most Alphas to be like, especially if he was expected to be married off to one of them.

Broad-shouldered, well-chiselled body carved from marble, muscles pulled taut over his stomach in anticipation. Underneath all that immaculate clothing, Slade still looked the same as he did nearly six years ago.

It was surreal, just knowing the Alpha was alive, had survived… here in Starling City, and possibly even was out for blood for what had happened between them. Would hurt those he loved before he hurt Oliver because that would cut him far worse.

That aggravated him, made him dig his nails in around the man's chest, leaving half-moon crescents there even though Slade barely seemed to notice.

Robbing Oliver of all clothing, jocks swiped down lastly in one rough tug, the Alpha equally angles himself upwards once done stripping him to allow Oliver to push his unbuttoned shirt down his shoulders and arms.

Bucking upwards, Oliver grips his lower body around Slade's, manoeuvring his legs over one another to kick his boots off. The Omega's hard cock springs up against his abdomen, fabric barriers gone, and already starting to leak precome.

Oliver's hot breath caresses over Slade's shoulders, fingers still kneading into the contours of the Alpha's body, feeling him and inflicting mild needles of pain as he went. He bites the skin over Slade's neck just like the Alpha had done his own; splitting the skin between his teeth almost as hard as he possibly could to deprive pleasure from the man.

Slade doesn't seem to take it that well, pressing an equally biting and smothering kiss into Oliver's neck.

It entices the Omega to moan, releasing his bite, his arousal brushing up across Slade's abdomen. It sends shudders through the Alpha's body along with him watching a collar of bruises slowly start to appear around Oliver's neck.

"Touch me again, dammit!" Oliver pants, dropping off from Slade and making for the man's belt.

His body had been prepped enough now; cock achingly hard against his stomach as he reached to free Slade's own. Between his thighs was constantly sticky, body exuding more and more pheromones to try and draw the Alpha onto him, break his stubborn self-control. If he could just do that, he would be free from this agony gripping him.

Ready or not, he wanted Slade's knot now.

Slade allows him to thread his belt out through the loops of his pants, even somewhat going to help him when Oliver starts to lose his patience and just tugs away at the thing. Oliver huffs in irritation, waiting for the Alpha pry off the rest of his clothing before attacking him again. Even eyeing hungrily the man's erection, straining the fabric of his soon-to-be-gone trousers.

It should be weird for Oliver, mucking around with a guy again, or not really a guy—just an Alpha. He'd always avoiding trying to have sex with men of his own dynamic, never quite sure what to do with himself there, even being the sexual deviant he was several years back. His friends, family, people like Tommy, they all thought he was a Beta so the thought of being the recipient partner had always been foreign to him.

Even when biology clearly argued otherwise.

He had played with this fire before though—Slade—and had gotten burned. Right now that doesn't matter; everything else could just be put on the back burner for the moment.

Once Slade tosses aside his remaining clothing, the Omega throws himself back onto the man, pushing him fully back onto the bed, careful so they don't fall off it.

Now sitting on top of the Slade's torso, their eyes meet, noses brushing against one another as Oliver pants rubbing his cock over the Alpha's stomach. Slade's features try to remain indifferent to his approaches but quickly twist into a wicked grin, fingers cupping under his chin to edge them closer.

Slade does not kiss Oliver on the lips, nor does Oliver make any attempts to do the same. That way they both know that this is not love. It is hatred in its purest form, where it dilutes and merges with lust, but a paragon of love.

Even if Oliver wasn't in heat, Slade doesn't know how long he could have lasted. Not forever, that much was certain.

"I could break your spine like a twig," Slade threatens, low in Oliver's ear, warm breath tickling across the Omega's throat.

To enforce that thought, Slade makes sure to clasp his hands over Oliver's waist tightly, putting pressure there even if the slight yelp the Omega makes is not one of pain.

"That wouldn't be much fun, now would it? Then you'd have a hard time pulling your knot out of my ass," Oliver chides, edging himself down the man so his arousal there was nudging against his own wet hole.

"Maybe so," Slade smirks, moving slightly so his length grazes over Oliver's outer ring of muscle, "but…"

Oliver whimpers, face going stupid with pleasure before Slade jerks up out from underneath him.

Quickly Oliver's in the same position they started in, the Alpha breathing down his neck above him, only this time he tries eagerly to pull the man's cock into him. Slade easily slaps his hands away from his thick girth though, pushing Oliver's legs up beside the Omega's chest.

"That's my call to make," Slade rumbles, hands gliding back down Oliver's legs to his entrance.

Instinctively Oliver's whole body clenches, Slade sliding his middle finger inside him. It sends a burning sensation through his spine though he imagines it could have been a lot worse. Had Oliver not been turned on as hell or currently not had the benefit of so much natural lubricant slicking up the process.

Breathing fast, he has to tilt his head back to try and get some blood back to his brain, gone half-loopy from a single motion.

"You're so tight," Slade states the obvious, "told you so, you weren't ready before."

Relaxing is difficult for Oliver, being put in a position he's only had experience with once before. Slowly he manages, fingers untangling from where he's been marring the bed sheets and body loosening its death-hold on Slade's digit.

The Alpha's unceremonious with his probing however; hastily pushing up further into his insides the moment Oliver allows even the slightest passage.

It's a snug fit; even for Slade's finger, yet the inner walls of the Omega's hole were moist and wet, allowing him to creep up there without giving Oliver too much obvious discomfort. He damn well knew it! It wouldn't do well for either of them if Oliver was too tight to be expected to accommodate a dick. Especially his Alpha dick and knot.

No doubt neither would be getting in there if Oliver wasn't going to let him.

Swiftly though not violently, Slade makes for the Omega's double sphincter. Growling, he finds it tighter than just about everything else. _It was not going to fit…_

Oliver just goes red in the face, legs kicking into Slade's shoulders as the man brushes over his prostate, a shower of sparks going off in his stomach. That is before the Alpha rubs over the other channel of flesh up there.

Oliver hisses, having to making a conscious effort to do so as his cock quivered and trickled out a little more fluid.

His body protested yes, but his mind warned no—even though he should… _No_, this was the one shred of pleasure he would not allow Slade to deprive from him. Snarling Oliver fists into the Alpha's hair, knowing full well the other could get whatever he wanted by force.

Slade remains calm though, even wide-eyed and stroking over the Omega's inner pleasure spots.

"We are not getting anywhere unless you loosen up in there for me."

"Bullshit, I'm not going to let you stick your cock in there!"

Slade was not taking _that_ from him, although technically Oliver wasn't a virgin.

"If you don't loosen your tight ass up, it's going to be a hell of a lot more painful for you, kid," Slade advises, pulling his finger out from inside Oliver.

The painful sensation that had mostly dissipated with the Alpha poking around inside him flares up again as the pulls out from him hastily.

Slade had a point though even he's done the old 'it-won't-fit' lie on girls before to get them to do what _he_ wanted. Granted, he hadn't studied the man's cock that much other than ogling it in anticipation for when he'd get to have it inside him.

It was definitely big, Alpha standard, though it should fit—should. Oliver hasn't taken enough dicks to be quite sure what his anatomy would pleasantly take in.

_Still…_

"Just do it already!" Oliver cries, just intent on seeing what happens.

Although Oliver didn't make a conscious effort of it, an Omega's male's secondary tract was naturally sealed tight unless aroused or heavy with child. He might have been overwhelmingly turned on though that didn't stop the coil of anxiety in the pit of his stomach and therefore almost everything else inside of him was being pulled rigid.

Slade doesn't seem to mind anymore yet, promptly sheathing himself inside of Oliver the moment he gets the initiative to.

Oliver yelps at the swift movement, not terribly from pain thankfully. Last minute the Alpha had thrown the Omega's legs over his own shoulders for better ease of entry. It only took him one sturdy buck of the hips to push into Oliver. About half of his cock still remained outside the Omega and that was going to be the annoying part. At least Oliver was still actively slicking himself up, albeit now laying his head back on the pillows, eyes half-lidded.

"'You right?" Slade has to ask, shifting forward slightly to drop Oliver's legs down so his arms are on either side of the Omega's shoulders.

"Yeah—ah, I just didn't expect you to be so…" Oliver doesn't finish and the Alpha just half rolls his eyes in response.

_Stupid kid._

The Omega is hasty in linking his arms and legs around Slade for leverage however, angling his hips upward to slide in more of the man's dick.

"Move," Oliver urges.

"Alright, kid."

Using the Omega's own body as leverage, Slade relegates his hands to Oliver's shoulders before thrusting smoothly inwards. Oliver immediately cries out, forcing himself to ease up but still feeling the Alpha's cock firmly in his insides.

He both loves and hates having Slade buried deep within him though the whimpers he releases obviously egg the man on all the same.

Snarling like a wild animal, Slade seems to let lust overtake him, snapping his hips forward so that their bodies are almost entirely connected. With every movement the Alpha backs out of him and then comes back into him a little deeper. It's so slow, _so fucking slow_, yet it allows him to take Slade inch by inch until there's nothing left outside of him and he can feel the man's balls rub between his thighs.

More precome begins to tickle down his length and if it wasn't for Slade pressed so tightly and heavy over him Oliver might have even made to speed up his own climax. Even though he still hates the man for what he's done having his cock run over Slade's abs fills him with bliss, balls further tightening.

After what feels like an eternity, Slade's slow and gradual movements cease as the man jams himself up inside of Oliver's double sphincter that he's finally been kind enough to open up. Oliver's not quite sure when he loosened up enough to allow the Alpha to easily slide in there yet there was no going back now as he moans wildly with enthusiasm.

Slade sets the pace at relentless and unforgiving, Oliver realising instantly to tilt his hips upward as much as possible to better accommodate the man's girth. The bed creaks underneath them, Slade pounding as seemingly deep and fast into him as possible. Thrusting up inside of him into pure warmth where his prostate was also sending fireworks off in his head from the harsh rubbings it was enduring.

Oliver was sure the man would leave bruises over his already battered body though at least these ones would be by his own choice.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you," Slade begins to murmur with every thrust.

He wasn't going to kill Oliver; right now he was going to exert his dominance over that little shit. Thinking he could just come in here being totally ungrateful, for what Slade did for him, then just tease him! _No, no,_ that's not how it worked. It might have been sinking to the lowest of his natural instincts but at the end of the day a feisty Omega was an offensive Omega.

"No you—ah, no you don't," Oliver breaths out in between light moans.

"You hurt me, of course I hate you!" Slade scolds, growing flustered as he feels his knot begin to swell.

"You hurt me first, and you would have done me far worse than I you!" Oliver retorts, head bouncing up and down as Slade fucks him half-violently.

Oliver's still grappling his limbs over Slade's back, nothing but sensation coiling in his abdomen as he tried to remain mad at the Alpha. Slade just grunts back at him, obviously finding it hard to do the same—stay mad with an impending orgasm right on top of him.

They both seem to give up in that regard, just shut up and rock ritualistically back and forth against one another as their conversation is reduced to quiet grunts and moans.

Oliver keens, body tensing around Slade's cock, as he finally comes, seed spilling up onto the Alpha's torso. It drives Slade to do the same, thrusting himself into the Omega as far as possible, knot swelling completely. Within seconds Oliver yelps, knot locking inside of him as the Alpha's comes, scalding his insides.

Everything inside of him tenses, refusing to let the other man go, though the carnal fury once gripping him does die off. Fucked and knotted, exactly what he needed.

Dropping off of Slade, Oliver can't bring himself to care when the man flops down on top of him, cock still keeping them tied. He wants to hiss and push the Alpha away, knowing a true knotting could last ten to twenty minutes which was far too many spent next to the other.

There's no fight left in him though, even if there was if would have evaporated quickly at what suddenly happens.

Both still shuddering, Slade presses his lips over Oliver's own.

It is the lightest flutter of kisses. Restrained, sweet—not at all dominating like he'd previously been.

And it quickly ends as the Alpha draws off him, pretending like nothing had ever happened, leaning back so they're as far away as possible. Oliver doesn't make an attempt to pursue Slade's short-glimpsed show of... well, he doesn't really know.

There was only one time Slade had done something like that before. Kissed him.

It was back to a time and place he didn't really want to think about, the Omega quickly pushing it aside as he lets his mind drift off to sleep.

Only one thought really crosses his mind as he feels a small sliver of victory creep through him.

Mission no doubt certainly accomplished.

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**Author Notes:** The _Turritopsis dohrnii_ is a jellyfish found in the waters off Japan. Why it's so special is that it can revert its cell to younger versions of its self. Theoretically, this cycle could continue indefinitely, so the jellyfish is practically immortal.


	5. What You Sow

**Author Notes: **If you haven't already guessed, the final part of Oliver's flashback does not go well. Even _I_ was feeling a bit conflicted to write it, so it may be a tad triggery—though granted nothing too much happens. So forewarning, both parties are ready to have consensual intimacy, one of them makes it _unintentionally_—I stress this very much—rough, and things escalate quickly.

Xxxxxxxx

**Chapter 5: What You Sow**

Sometime during Oliver's post-orgasm induced haze-like state, Slade rolls off him. It's immediately apparent, not just because of the lack of weight on top of him but the sharp sting that accompanies the Alpha swiftly pulling out of him. Obviously the knot had deflated enough so that Slade could break the tie without rupturing his dick but it still has him make a muffled groan, knot detaching from somewhere deep inside of him.

Neither of them seem to have the energy to move so Oliver just keeps his eyes shut when Slade ruffles under the sheets nearby, then disturbing him. It's not draughty inside of Slade's mass headquarters, yet Oliver quickly moves to do the same, not sure about laying openly naked in potential enemy territory. At least under the sheets he possibly wouldn't feel constantly on edge despite fighting to stay awake.

Just like with Isabel Rochev, having sex with people you presumably hated wasn't so bad as the aftermath. Sharing a bed with someone you'd rather not being around was an almost disgusting feeling. That's why with Isabel, other than having actual things to do, he'd been quick to hightail it out of here. That responsibility probably falls to him here again, being the guest, though it isn't nearly as awful here as it was with the former Alpha.

At least Oliver thinks he can stand to be in Slade's presence without wanting to hit him, though that could also be heat hormones tipping him in favour of being passive.

Not looking over at the other, Oliver hops out of bed and to his feet. Dropping his feet to the floor, he finally notices he's still wearing his socks, having not managed to kick them off along with his boots. When he goes to yank them off he notices he's also thankfully stopped lubricating. Everything is high and dry down there, albeit sticky and it feels like he could really go for a shower about now.

Again, if he had the energy to move or care.

Considering Oliver's never been _correctly_ knotted before now, which is the only _proper_ way to end an Omega's heat, other than waiting it out or just otherwise screwing around—which even then involved it's fair share of waiting around—he isn't sure what to expect.

An almost instantaneous poof, boom, heat urges for the most part gone, was not it. That was putting his expectations a little bit too high but that's the circumstance Oliver finds himself in.

_Shit, well that was quick._

Reclimbing into the bed, doubting his ability to navigate his way home or even the hallways of the apartments, Oliver faces his back to Slade. The only light in the room is the dim-glowing city outside and chucking glances over his shoulder, he can't entirely see or be sure if the Alpha is still awake or not. He's not sure why he still cares but it feels like letting his guard down to Oliver if he rests first. Oliver tries to convince himself he was just being hormonal, far too apologetic because of his heat. Flooding his mind with stupid nonsense.

Shifting, he finds sleep to be coming nowhere near as easily or quickly as it seemed to want to before. He was still tired, though he only seemed to be ruminating in his thoughts. Although Slade is barely a couple inches away from him it feels like they're worlds apart. A world apart that Oliver spent a long time returning from, not sure if he ever wanted to go back to. Not with the memories it trudged up and his inability to ever bring any closure to _that_ situation.

At least he can now, though he's not sure if it's the closure he wants, nor the type he ever would have expected. Just like with Sara's 'death' and her recent return. This time round, with Slade, it's a lot more complicated and painful and it has heartache radiating throughout his entire body.

Choking back any notion of sound from him, Oliver has to bring himself to _ask_.

"Why didn't you say anything back then? You could have told me… you liked me like that… and it wasn't just the pheromones or some other shit," he whispers, not sure if Slade hears him or is even conscious to.

This newfound knowledge is something that had bothered him once or twice in the past, now it's far more acute however. Oliver doesn't have an easier time putting it into context though he does know if he knew what he knew now back then, he could have understood.

He would have understood then.

Drifting off to sleep Oliver does not sleep well, remembering only the time where he's sure it all went wrong between him and Slade.

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Covered in bodily fluids and muck—most of which Oliver imagines is from Ivo—Slade still manages the difficult task of trying to look sincere—which is weird for him—attempting to placate him. Slade looks like he's trying to coax a wounded animal out, and not to bite him either. Oliver currently doesn't have the cool of mind for a fight-or-flight situation, nor the energy to execute one.

All of his energy has just been spent fretting over the lives of his friends and wheatear or not he might ever get to see them again.

A gloved hand is placed over his cheek, and it's only a matter of time before Slade notices his jitters aren't just from having a real right scare.

"You shouldn't…" he whispers, placing a hand over the Alpha's own and removing it from his face.

Normally he would have been happy for Slade not to have been coming at him with harsh training regiments and just generally seeming to give a shit about how he was feeling. But in this situation, up-close and personal was the last thing he wanted with an Alpha.

Even if they were currently trying to look at for him, that couldn't possibly last forever.

Majority of his heats on the island had consisted of the ever-present feeling of doom setting in and then Oliver would hightail it away from the rest of the group and hide out in the forest. He'd usually be gone for twenty-four hours max, the whole thing a nightmare of being unable to hold any substance in his stomach and rolling in dirt to best conceal his pheromones.

When he came back, Slade and Shado never would pry as to where he'd been, knowing all too well. Only Slade would think aloud that he could have gone off and gotten himself killed, or gave away their position as well. Both Alphas were intimidating enough on their own; the thought alone of being bound to one of them was motivation enough for Oliver to stagger through miles of shrub to eventually stop somewhere he deemed a safe enough hiding place.

Shado always seemed to think it was funny, she'd say that Oliver should trust them around him more, that they'd both show him a good time if he'd just let them. Oliver had to remind himself multiple times, that although Shado was a girl—and he was a sucker at the first sign of a woman on this male-dominated island—she was still an Alpha.

And she had a dick hidden inside of her somewhere, so he'd be the one getting fucked in the ass there.

Only once or twice in the past had Oliver tried to do an Alpha before, and both times he'd been too drunk to make anything good out of it or realize she could just as easily have turned around and been doing him.

Scary, even if Shado might have joked that if Slade wasn't around Oliver would be so much more comfortable with the idea of sex. Which was in no way was true, really she was the more worrisome one as he was more likely to let himself go around a girl than a guy.

They were both really attractive Alphas, don't get him wrong, but when the chance of Bonding was around fifty percent or higher, the risk outweighed being able to get off. Especially when Bonds were only broken through death or scientific procedures akin to getting divorced on a molecular level.

His mom would have known a long time ago that Robert had died when the Queen's Gambit went down. Would have noticed when she woke up without his familiar scent clinging inside her nostrils without him actually having to be there in order for it to do so.

Oliver hopes she isn't dead, died of heartbreak or at the lack of an Alpha in her life. She still had Thea to look after.

Broken Bonds meant broken people, which is why when one person in a Bonded couple died, the other usually followed. Bonding might have come down to a science, some crap in Biology classes he never listened to, like both parties had to release natural endorphins around one another for science to think it was legit. But science also came down to chemistry, which meant sex, which often meant one-night stands and alcohol.

Although Oliver had been sober for over a year now, there was no way he was going to risk putting himself in the same situation as his mother. Knocking himself off just because his Alpha died was _not_ going to happen; he still wanted to get off this horrible island after all.

He hadn't even really thought about settling down before the whole island. Yeah he _could_ have moved in with Laurel but there was zero chance of a Bond there. Even his father frowned at the idea, though didn't want anyone else knowing he was an Omega either.

Maybe he just wanted to court him off some obscene amount of money when he was of a respectable age.

Which wouldn't be happening now as Robert was dead, and Slade instantly shrinks backwards after Oliver tries to push him away nicely. For both their sakes.

Slade stumbles to his feet, upwards and away from him, covering both his mouth and nose with a hand. He side-steps over the mess that is Ivo before coming to a halt between the room's door frame, leaning against it. The Alpha takes a heavy gasp, apparently breathing through his mouth and Oliver knows that Slade _knows_. Probably has to resist the temptation to come back over to him.

_This_ is what he's always been afraid of.

_Okay, okay, _he didn't need to panic yet. His whole body might have been sore and the chances of him being able to run away seemingly impossible but Slade seemed okay. For the moment.

If the boat had been mostly cleared, he could have looked at getting out of here, back into the sanctuary of the forest. Though even then he'd want Slade or Sara at his side in case anything went down and he was unable to defend himself. So maybe he'd better stay here… he hadn't attracted any unwanted attention yet with his heat pheromones so he didn't think he was going to.

Edging away from the pole he was once bound to, Oliver slinks inconspicuously over to where Shado's quiver and long bow were. He might have trusted Slade, but he didn't trust Alphas around him in heat. So it was a double-edged sword and although his arrows would likely be useless against Slade, with the Mirakuru in his system, it was still a comforting gesture to have them nearby.

"Ivo didn't…?" Slade goes to ask, sliding down the wall so he's eye height with Oliver.

Slade seems to realize last minute _exactly _what he's asking when Oliver furrows his brows at him, his sentence trailing off.

"I'm fine," Oliver huffs, not liking where this conversation was going.

Keeping his hands in his lap, making sure they're not too close to his archery equipment so he looks suspicious. Still on the defensive, but ready to become hostile if necessary. Even if it would do him no good.

Slade doesn't take his answer well though as his eyes flash dark and he lunges forward, stopping just in front of him. The Alpha catches himself on his hands and knees, and Oliver isn't sure what he's said to displease the other.

Maybe Slade was just out playing the Alpha protecting what was his. It was at the core of his most basic instinct after all.

"Did he—"

Obviously Slade didn't think it was merely coincidental Ivo would keep have abducted him so close to his heat for nothing. Which neither did he, but the truth or _that_, he would have still ended up dead. This is the less embarrassing situation of the two to be saved in though.

"No, he didn't! I'm fine okay," Oliver assures angrily, their faces so close their noses are almost touching.

"Besides he's dead now, you already made sure of that," Oliver finishes, spitting in pain and annoyance.

Slade had already killed the Beta; he didn't get a second opportunity to do so.

At this close a distance, Oliver could see the tense play of muscle underneath the Alpha's vest. How his face and shoulders relaxed the moment Oliver gave him the honest look saying Ivo hadn't done anything to him.

Well, the Beta might have been out to kill him, but just about everyone on the island was hostile, given the right circumstances.

"I couldn't protect Shado," Slade's voice comes out harshly, huskier than usual, like he's been mourning—why hadn't Oliver noticed that before?—, "but I can protect you."

At that moment Oliver is sure his face flushes, unsure how to really respond to the Alpha's words.

Slade Wilson was acting awfully complicated for Slade Wilson.

It was sappy by Slade's standards, but given the situation it felt like Slade was making him out to be more than he was worth. Which was complimentary and painful all at the same time.

Slade doesn't attempt to back off him though when Oliver can't think of anything intelligent to say, instead just crashes his mouth down onto his own.

It's rough, rougher than any girl Oliver's ever kissed before. Even more so than the guys, which had happened too many times for him to count now when he'd gotten off-his-tree drunk or just gotten recreational.

They're sweaty, disgusting and now both covered in the blood of the enemy, and yet he lets the Alpha kiss him as naturally as he let would anyone else.

It's unexpected though surprisingly not unwelcome, which means Oliver is returning the favour quicker than expected by nipping the man's lower lip beneath his teeth.

Slade's lips are chapped, wet, utterly unfamiliar but sensual all the same. It must have been an Alpha thing as Oliver was feeling aroused and intimidated all at once, even as he quickly finds himself with his back against the floor.

He's gripped firmly, though the palms on his forearms are only just enough to break through the intensity of his heat and give him some semblance of pleasure. It could have been painful, but then so was having unsated heats.

This was a bad idea, and he's not sure if Slade is thinking straight because it feels like this should be insulting to Shado's memory. Granted he was the Omega here and any Alpha should be his to choose from by default. _No, no_—what is he thinking?

Breaking away from the smothering kiss of the Alpha, Oliver finds his hands are around Slade's neck. Slade looks concerned that he's stopped, eyes still half-lidded with desire, or even a little surprised with himself that he'd been the one to initiate intimacy, losing himself momentarily. Oliver coughs awkwardly, not sure what to do with his appendages since Slade wasn't moving from being slightly on top of him, so he just left everything where it was.

His skin was fiery and rational thought seemed to be leaving him, but he wasn't too far gone yet.

"Where's Sara?" Oliver asks, needing to know and also giving his mind a buoy to keep afloat from sinking into his sea of heat-induced lust with.

Shifting slightly above him, Slade seems to make sure he's not putting too much pressure on the Omega before responding.

"Around."

Then Slade just inhales deeply again letting Oliver's heat pheromones wash over him. It's enough to make even a well-restrained Alpha feel a pang of need. The Omega having returned his show of affection seemed to indicate a 'go' to him. Oliver still looking confused at Slade's response, the Alpha proceeds to make short work of the other's clothing.

The Omega had been in heat for long enough, so no need to let him suffer any longer.

"What are you doing!" Oliver yells, though not loudly enough to draw unwanted attention, when Slade starts unzipping his jacket.

Where Sara's current whereabouts were had been vague and the Alpha didn't seem intent on sharing anymore of that information with him before just deciding screw it, _let's just have sex anyway._ He's had people walk in on him during intimacy before, all of which were awkward experiences.

If Sara was still hanging around, then he still needed to have _some_ standards.

_That_ was not a conversation he needed to have with Sara. Just like _that_ silent 'conversation' he was sure he and Slade had when they had exchanged with one another as they shot glares around Shado.

Right now, Slade just stiffens, currently running his hands over the contours of his abdomen.

"What's it _look_ like I'm doing?"

_Seriously?_

There is a body lying not even five feet from them and Slade Wilson wants to have sex. Granted, Oliver doesn't say that.

"Uh-uh, I'm not going to do it here, especially not on the floor!"

"Are you for real, kid? We have been on this island for _months_ now and you're expecting a homemade bed to crawl into for intimacy? You're just…" Slade just gawks at Oliver like he's an idiot.

Having the Alpha begin to undress him was uncomfortable enough yet now he was practically breathing down his neck. Although his eager cock was starting to strain the waistband of his pants, he couldn't let this happen! It would do no good for either of them; Bonds were far too strong and fickle things to be trifled with. He did _not_ need one with Slade Wilson.

"I'd rather you didn't," Oliver half-whines, managing to stutter out as he grips the Alpha's wrists away from him.

Every part of his lower body protested the former idea though, more lubricant dripping from him and cock just quivering to the side of Slade's leg. Although the idea of being forever protected and looked after by an Alpha on this hell of an island sounded appealing, that would likely be accompanied by his own need to submit and play bitch to said Alpha.

_Not gonna happen._

However, Slade easily sees through his white lie, his body arching up into the Alpha's touch as Slade frees his hands from Oliver's own.

"Bullshit, don't lie to me. I can see you're practically begging for it."

Oliver knows he's doing exactly that and it's almost futile for him to try and resist it. Hormones he's tried so hard to resist in the past but also didn't have an Alpha ready to knot him in that moment, tempting him here. Slade just vibrates over him, hands slipping between his waistband and giving it a firm tug downwards.

Everything below his pants is wet; cock now beginning to drip fluid which only added to how much of a mess Oliver imagines he must have looked. How completely pathetic and weak.

Slade doesn't seem to see it that way though, grinning madly from ear to ear as he nuzzles into the Omega's neck, taking a deep whiff of his pheromones. "I would never hurt you," Slade whispers lowly, and Oliver doesn't know if he can believe him.

From what he's heard about majority of Alphas, they were fiercely protective of Unbonded Omegas that they could take off the dating scene. Most Alphas hadn't thoroughly beaten the crap out of Oliver in their idea of 'training' however. Nor were they certified experts in how to kill people.

To top it all off, he can't really know if this is just the Mirakuru warping Slade's mind. Which was probably already struggling enough from his Omegan pheromones.

He trusts Slade, has trusted him before with his life, but…

"You don't know that…" Oliver croaks, hoping not to offend the Alpha.

So far Slade's control around him before and after his heats had been admirable, yet he doesn't know if the Alpha _really_ wants this. Like Oliver could do it—have carefree sex—but that was also thinking that he and the person involved were drunk or just otherwise completely out of it. Which he wasn't yet past that point, but he doesn't know about Slade.

"'Lemme take care of you," the Alpha only responds, assuringly.

Usually this would sound sincere but it's so un-Slade-like Oliver doesn't know what to think. Length still straining against his boxers, there only seems to be one thing he can say.

"Okay…"

Slade takes the initiative immediately, hurriedly flipping a half-undressed Oliver over onto his stomach. Gasping, the Omega finds the breath knocked out of him, chest hitting the concrete flooring as the Alpha starts yanking down his pants. Obviously Slade was taking the fast approach, which he could agree with needing more than simple touches here and there. Rough, this rough, he couldn't do though.

It takes Oliver a moment to realise he's been seeing stars, head swaying with nausea as he registers the Alpha's gloved palms running over his hips. Mostly unclothed hips, granted he still feels the only pair of boxers he's had on the island, the one's he was shipwrecked in, still around his waist. Head tilting upwards, Oliver allows Slade to trace over the litheness of his torso with one hand, sending shivers down his spine despite the Alpha's moment of early roughness.

Maybe Slade was just being overly eager but it still takes the Omega a moment or two to catch his breath after being flipped over so abruptly.

It doesn't look like he'll be getting much more up either though, Slade now draping himself overtop him like a blanket. Warm, the Alpha was so warm, Oliver noticing how cold his lower body is, damp from natural preparation. Pushing aside the very real possibility that Slade could hurt him, the Omega edges back up into Slade's own body, feeling the tightness and constrained energy there beneath his muscles. Even through layers of clothing.

At this point, Oliver is just sure he's meant to play the submissive. Not that he has any experience doing so before but his dynamic had always pressured him to do so during a heat cycle.

He could do that.

As if Slade had read his thoughts, the Alpha weaves down to the worn elastic of his jocks, giving the waistband there a pull and a flick. Twisting his arms out from underneath supporting his body is difficult, especially with Slade practically snaking over his entire body and him not wanting to let himself fall over. Instead Oliver just arches his lower body up into the man's pelvis.

Grinding back into the Omega at his gesture, Slade hastily yanks down the last of Oliver's jocks, in spite of awkward positioning of it all. Not wanting to ease off Oliver for even a second.

Oliver is quick to gasp at the cool texture of Slade's gloved hands, the man growling as he traced over his flesh. It was sensual, burning, and the Omega quickly finds himself jolted out of that mind-frame.

"Slade!" he whines, clasping his hands over the Alpha's own, kneading somewhat harshly into his upper thigh flesh.

Slade doesn't seem to have noticed yet how brutally fierce he was being, and although compliant for a moment to see how things went, Oliver could not handle that anymore. Not when Slade didn't show much notion of lightening up how firm his grasps were over his already tender skin.

That's when the adrenaline pumping though his body at the first sign of intimacy quickly goes from fuelling the fire to like a bucket of cold water to his system. No longer does Oliver want this, nor seek the friction from the Alpha's body as at once searing pain erupts through his legs. Wheatear it was intentional or not, his fault or Slade's, the Alpha was too strong for his own good.

"Slade… you're hurting me," he half-screams, having his upper body pushed downwards as Slade is no doubt going to attempt to knot.

Can't fight, must flight, his mind screams, the Alpha seeming oblivious to his struggling, both internal and immediately becoming external.

He is worried, he is scared, _shit, shit, shit_.

Do… what does he do?!

He could seriously get hurt if Slade lost himself much more, hands like vice grips around the Omega's smaller, frailer body. No doubt there were already bruises starting to form over his hips, waist and ass.

Scrambling out from underneath Slade quickly, what happens next for Oliver is very fast.

It's a decision made forcefully quick on adrenaline, fear. Scuffling forward on his hands and knees, Oliver makes to grab for his only real defence—or offense—in this case, the bow and quiver not even three feet away from him. Even as Slade grabs him by the back of the jacket, yanking him backwards, likely not seeing what the problem is, or that there ever was one.

Fingertips just over the edge of the quiver, Oliver just misses grabbing it—the bow farther back for his other hand to reach—dragging his empty hand over the floor as the Alpha has him dropped to it like earlier. Only this time it was a lot less enjoyable and that concept now feeling completely foreign to the Omega.

_This is not Slade…_

Wrenched aback, Oliver does manage to grab one thing only ever slightly in reach: an arrow by the back of its feathering poking out of the quiver.

It was not much but it gravely needed to be.

The thought fleeting crosses Oliver's mind that he doesn't want to hurt Slade, only inflict enough damage for him to back off so the Omega can get the hell out of his presence. But the thought is only a small star in a much larger constellation, something that he'd easily miss in the heat of the situation. With the stone head of the arrow facing upwards in his fist, Oliver jabs it backwards and up with the intention of catching Slade in the side—hopefully enough to throw him off him.

Only the arrow doesn't stab into the Alpha's side, or anywhere near it, the Omega knowing this instantly without even being able to fully turn around. The way Slade immediately tightens and then his whole body went incredibly lax, virtually collapsing over him—and bringing him to the ground as well—gives Oliver the impression that he's seriously hurt him. However illogical it might seem when Slade had the Mirakuru in his system.

A sense of dread fills him, though the Omega still scrambles out from underneath the Alpha when it seems safe for him to. Not looking back, Oliver fumbles up his pants quickly reclothes himself to give himself a better feeling of protection. Although it realistically wasn't going to do anything, being fully-clothed again gives the indication he no longer wants sex. At least not Slade's idea of—unintentionally rough—sex.

Creating some distance between the two of them by hauling his aching body into a corner, Oliver finally wheels around to check on the Alpha's whereabouts.

The sight of it puts him more off then he previously was.

The arrow he'd intended to stab somewhere non-fatal, like a hand or a bicep, is crooked coming out of Slade's right eye.

A lump begins to form in his throat and Oliver feels himself choke, dropping back down next to Slade again. His positioning on the flooring is awkward, stiff—obviously set that way when the Omega scrambled out from underneath him and threw him off as best possible.

Even from a single glance Oliver can tell Slade's… _dead_. Pierced through the eye, likely cracking the skull, and he's not even sure if that alone can kill you—or if he's gotten the Alpha in the brain during his frenzied attack.

What has he done?

Oliver's feels his voice crack as he goes to say something, apologize—just anything!—as he's reaching his hands out to stem the flow of dark blood pouring from the Alpha's eye. He almost has to turn away from him, resisting the urge to pull the weapon out of Slade's still open yet lifeless cornea. _Maybe it would heal?_ He could hope, or at least that seemed the only thing he could do right now, quickly saturating his palms with the Alpha's blood.

"I'm so sorry…" he croaks, feeling the harshness of Slade's hair and the set of his jaw with every stroke of the Alpha's face while Oliver tries to bring him back.

But that was beyond him, to undone what he's unwittingly done.

Although his ribs and hips hurt from painful caresses, it was nothing compared to the cringe in his chest of his heart feeling like it was falling apart all over again. Just like he'd been the one to kill Shado, he'd ended up killing Slade. Possibly more so Slade than Shado, even so shortly after the Omega had been sure the Alpha was done for when the serum seemed to fail.

So soon after getting Slade back again, he'd lost him, and this time it was all his fault.

The rest of that memory always seems to blur into a haze for Oliver, balling his eyes out and whispering useless apologizes that meant nothing once whom it was intended for was dead. It's going to be a while, possibly hours before he's broken out of his stupor of trying to _somehow _revive the Alpha.

Eventually Sara will stumble into the bunker—haggard and with blood matting every inch of her—, very likely catching his heat pheromones and the distress signals he was involuntarily throwing off in it.

These are the parts of his dreams—or rather nightmares—that always seemed to be left out. Conscious of it, Oliver knows his mind won't be letting him out early of this hell—intent on making him see the rest of it through.

A moment that would possibly resemble a semblance of acceptance passes. Acceptance, or at least not shunning, of his dynamic, or it would be if Oliver wasn't screaming at Sara trying to drag his weakened self away from Slade.

"We need to get out of here," she'd protest, quickly brushing aside the issue of his dynamic—how he'd lied to cover it up—after he breaks down, telling her what he's done.

Skimping on the details and leaving out most of the stuff about Ivo, only that without Slade having showed up in the nick of time, he'd probably be dead right now. That the Alpha had been protecting him and just look at how he had repaid him!

She's managing to be so strong, practically dragging him off the floor and out the door even when Oliver can feel her chest shudder with her own small cries. There's not a lot of fight left in him, breaking out of Sara's grip is nigh-impossible and he barley tries, just using the last energy he has to barely stay conscious as he screams himself hoarse.

He doesn't know when he has started crying; only that he doesn't stop until well after the Beta has done her best to navigate his shrivelling mess out of the boat and back into the sanctuary of the forest.

That path is littering with gory corpses, obvious tell-tale things that Slade, and to a lesser extent Sara, had a field trip trying to reach him. Oliver's barely conscious, falling asleep on himself, when they appear outside the boat and Sara is quick to keep him from collapsing, further hauling them into the safety of the shrub. Likely wary of any unwanted visitors that might stumble upon them with Oliver in heat.

The sun's riding low in the sky when Sara seems to deem she's chaperoned Oliver to safety enough, when he's finally allowed to drop to the grass, still shuddering with dried tears coating his face. His mind overly plagues itself with thoughts of how much he hates and despises his very own existence right now, but how Sara is so understanding, not seeming to get angry at him over it—practically killing Shado and Slade within the last seventy-two hours—is beyond Oliver.

There were still petty city kids and now they were expecting to survive on _their_ own, seeing as he'd sentenced all the Alphas in their life to death.

Doubling over, Oliver is instantly emptying his stomach into the bushes, almost surprised he hadn't earlier. Despite really just wanting to be alone right now, Sara stays by his side. Placing a hand over the small of his back even though he immediately flinches away at her touch.

Still just spitting and coughing, he tries weakly to push her aside, palm now rubbing small circles into him.

"Stop it," she tells him off softly as Oliver goes to hiss at her, currently wiping his sleeve across his mouth.

He's cried all he can possibly can for the moment and nothing but a feeling of existential emptiness fills him. Exhaustion fills him to the brim and he can't understand why Sara is still wasting her time on him. Yeah, safety in numbers and all but he was just such dead weight at this point he doesn't know why the Beta bothers.

"Why are you helping me?" he croaks, voice low from all his screaming.

"Laurel goes through the same thing, though every month. It's kind of hard to watch when you can't exactly do anything, so I've learnt to do the best I can—just bring her chocolates, pour her warm baths, that sort of thing," she responds, though not specifically answering his question.

"I can see why you guys aren't Bonded now," Sara follows up, as if to try and bleed some lightness back into the conversation.

It doesn't, though Oliver silently appreciates her trying to look after him, though still not sure how she can be so calm.

"Thanks…"

"Don't mention it."

Sara's going to continue nursing him through his heat as best she can; spending multiple hours at his side, even though he's sure she's got to be starving, without going anywhere. That is going to go on until the second sunrise after that night, when finally Oliver's heat blows over and Sara's tended to his physical ailments about as much as possible.

The heaviness in his heart doesn't pass however, no matter how much time does. Like a hole in his chest that can never quite be filled, only ever constantly being dug at as he just keeps on losing people. He has lost Shado, he has lost Slade, and then he will lose Sara.

Even if Slade is alive and returned, Oliver can't be sure how much is left of the person he had once known.

xxxxxxxx

Oliver is pulled out of his—mostly—nightmare when the beginnings of sunlight begin to show behind his closed eyelids. The dream was so vivid and real, almost startling that he could remember the scene so thoroughly even though it was now years ago behind him. So right it had been… so wrong it had gone.

Still half asleep, Oliver rolls over, intent on going back to sleep as his alarm hasn't gone off yet, when his arm brushes across something. Palming at it again, he knows it's not the sheets as it's a lot harder than them and when he grabs at it, it doesn't move. Peeking an eye open, the Omega darts backwards and practically allows himself to fall out of the bed, remembering where he is.

_Slade…_

He'd temporarily forgotten where he was as nothing seemed out of the norm until he noticed the Alpha lying across from him. Thankfully still asleep and not looking like Oliver had awoken him. The last thing he needed as he was still expected to be—judging from the sun flittering through the closed blinds of the room—at work in less than two-three hours. It was Friday right, _right?_

He really has no idea how much time has passed but yesterday was Thursday… never mind, he could deal with Slade later. Or Slade could be the one dealing with him when they both find out whether step two of Oliver's plan had worked or not.

Stumbling back into his clothes—his Hood costume, as it was the only thing he had on him and he was not making the trip back naked, or planning to go through the Alpha's things—regardless, he still needed to be out of here.

Felicity and Dig were no doubt worried sick over him, having neither his phone nor Bluetooth on him so they could make contact. They hadn't come yet so Oliver had to think they thought him somewhat okay, or it was too possible that the GPS tracker in his boot wasn't working the way it should. Maybe Slade's building was off the map, or at least built from materials that could scramble or nullify any real tracking within it?

Whatever, it didn't matter; he wouldn't be staying here for much longer. Oliver would already have Felicity and Dig to answer to, come up with a half-believable lie to, to even want to think about adding Isabel Rochev to that list. Who would certainly chew him out and make his day hell if he didn't show up on time.

At least his heat isn't still smothering him so he would still be showing up at all.

Being expected to run a business and keep his dynamic a secret with corporate meetings and people obviously trying to snuff his company out from underneath him was not going to be in the least bit easy. His last two heats had happened when he was on Lian Yu mourning, so he wasn't yet sure how to juggle everything, other than just walking out on people, at what he thought was convenient times for him, like he usually did.

Which he was going to do again now, Oliver quietly moving about the bedroom so as not to wake Slade. Hopefully no one else has shown up in the building—not that the Omega planned to look for a proper entryway out of here, instead would just hopefully grapple out of a window with his bow—otherwise his hand might be forced to hurt people he usually would otherwise not.

Who was he kidding? Anyone else that showed up here was probably in with Slade to ruin his life, or at least The Vigilante's life. Neither meant good things for him so staying here in uncharted territory for much longer was not going to happen.

Making for the door, Oliver double-checks himself to make sure everything is in order and he looks no different than the Arrow usually does. Not in the least bit Oliver Queen. Before he manages to get out the door he gets the feeling that he's missing something and has the urge to go back and look for it. Nothing's missing from his attire though, quiver and bow all there.

Oliver is quick to realise what it likely is, walking back through the room and gathering it up from the floor before he makes it out the door once again.

xxxxxxxx

Oliver arrives back to Verdant with time to spare, letting himself in through the back door and sighing when he notices Dig and Felicity waiting there for him. He doesn't see the young Beta which relives him slightly.

"What are you guys doing here?" Oliver asks, scratching the back of his head as he takes apart his gear and goes about setting it all back up in its proper places.

"Seriously Oliver?" Dig half-groans.

"Waiting for you to get your ass back here obviously," Felicity pipes in, wheeling around from the computer setup.

She and Dig don't seem intent on letting him have the easy way out, both looking like they're waiting for an answer as Oliver just remains silent. He really hadn't thought up a decent excuse and the truth was confusing, even for him, not something he felt comfortable letting them know. Although if Slade was going to be a threat they deserved to know so, albeit he hasn't quite worked that one out himself either.

He wasn't going to mention Slade, not yet at least. The rest of the truth could be stretched. Felicity doesn't give him much more time to think up a somewhat warped version of the truth before she's frowning at him again.

"You go dark for over six hours and you're not even going to say anything? Maybe at least apologize because we were both worried sick about you?"

"Well, I'm sorry," Oliver hopes he sounds sincere, "I didn't realise the building I ended up in must have cut off the GPS signal."

That's likely not the apology Dig and Felicity were hoping for, yet right now Oliver is throwing off his jacket to change back into regular clothing so he can go home. Now was not the time to give them a tediously long explanation.

"I take it things didn't go well with you and Cyrus Gold?" Dig asks more calmly than Felicity, though Oliver knows they've both just been worried about him and he should be appreciating their sincerity.

"Nope, not at all," Oliver offers.

Dig gives him a discerning look as he quickly chucks on another shirt, knowing the bruising and marring across his chest would make it stupid for him to try and lie about.

"You get him?"

"Again, no. He kicked my ass."

Diggle looks at him waiting for the _and_ in that sentence, knowing that alone didn't take Oliver so long to get back here. Dig and Felicity both have dark circles under their eyes and look visibly haggard, and he can't help but feel a pang of guilt for not returning sooner.

They deserved more of the truth…

"Okay, alright. Someone didn't like Gold trying to kill me, specifically the leader of their cult whom just decided we were going to have a little chat instead—"

"What? You went and talked to someone who has obviously been trying to kill you, and then just suddenly changed their mind?" Felicity butts in, looking visibly confused.

"Not exactly willingly, I couldn't do too much either to prevent myself from getting knocked out. We didn't have a friendly chat either, and I kind of ended up breaking my bow, so I was in an even worse position."

He's trying very hard to stay as close to the truth as possible but regardless it still sounded far-fetched in his own mind. Without giving a history lesson of Slade and him on Lian Yu, it likely wouldn't make sense to them even if he did reveal their relation to one another. So he just tries to drop Slade from the details altogether.

They all glanced over at his bow though, noticing the fractures and scraps it has accumulated.

"So were they after The Arrow or Oliver Queen?" Dig queries, steering Oliver's mind back on track while he gives up on fully re-changing his clothes until he has some more privacy.

"Gold: The Arrow, I'm guessing he didn't like me prying into what he was doing," Oliver pauses before continuing, "Their leader… I think, didn't want _me_ dead."

Oliver really hopes that was the right thing to say as he can't take those words back now.

"Oliver, this guy knows who you are! And he just let you walk away? You just let him walk away?" Felicity too quickly notices the strangeness of what his words imply.

He has to be careful with his words, knowing how convoluted this scenario was beginning to sound and it was obvious he was hiding things.

"Again, it's not like I had a choice. I didn't want to be kidnapped and held hostage any more than you guys wanted to have to worry about me."

_Define hostage_, Oliver mentally asks himself after saying that sentence aloud.

Dig and Felicity are pretty much trying to pry information out of him like teeth at this stage, Diggle quickly wisening up to that when Oliver remains apparently vague.

"So you and this guy know each other, Oliver?"

It's not a question but an implication.

There was no other way around it, hopefully telling more of the truth and sooner would make it easier to inevitably explain later. He was no good at keeping secrets when they could be potentially harmful to others, or at least people who would be getting hurt at his own expense.

"I don't know if we _really_ know each other anymore," Oliver sighs, feeling a twinge of pain over Slade.

The way he goes quiet for a moment must signal something to the both of them as Dig and Felicity both back of with their questions. Trusting Oliver to deem whether this situation was a hazardous one or not.

He can't tell them that either though.

"Look, I'll tell you guys more later, but right now I to go home, get dressed, and be at work in the next two hours. So do you two, for that matter," he reaffirms, quickly trying to close the conversation to discussion.

Oliver follows up by giving them the queue to leave so he can finish changing without having them watch. Felicity doesn't immediately make to move yet.

"Wait, were you alright? You were right on top of your heat last night, which is now today because it's after midnight?"

_Of course,_ he wouldn't be able to go more than a single conversation without having his unsuspecting dynamic mentioned.

"I'm fine, Felicity," he manages to grind out.

"Sure, okay. 'Just you're not even wearing your scent blocker right now, or even your Beta stuff for that matter."

Oliver nearly cusses, breathing in sharply and noticing how notably _Omegan_ he smelt without any form of concealment. Felicity thankfully takes her queue to leave with Diggle, darting off and not mentioning another word about it, leaving Oliver to his thoughts.

_What am I supposed to do?_

Men didn't sort out their feelings; he never did, only ever hardened his shell a little bit more and tried to get over it. Even if he was supposed to be the 'frail' Omega. He doubts Slade was going to do the same either, that they were just supposed to try and talk things through together like _normal_ people.

Maybe he should have tried to gouge out Slade's other eye in his sleep if Oliver was going to be so worried about it…

The whole situation makes him laugh at how Slade had gone from wanting to protect him to planning his demise. Not that Oliver doesn't equally feel spite towards the Alpha for hurting him, letting him think that the other was dead, and the obvious killing of people in the city to get at him.

He still has an ace though, granted a weird ace up his sleeve it is. He hadn't been sure until Slade had kissed him and only then was he aware that it was something he could exploit. If necessary to do so… A chink in the Alpha's seemingly impenetrable armour.

"It was me, it was always me," Oliver laughs, Slade had been jealous of him—not Shado. Or possibly both, either way it added up to the same scenario now.

It was him.

xxxxxxxx

Exiting the basement, Diggle hums once Felicity appears outside alongside him as well.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asks, quickly catching on.

"Felicity, have you seen an Omega after their heat?"

She looks at him stupidly, almost offended.

"No, not really. Why are we talking about this? Last time I checked you weren't an expert on Omegas, even less so Oliver."

Felicity finds it weird what Dig's implying, that they're somewhat talking about Oliver. Or at least his dynamic, which admittedly she wasn't expecting him to turn around and be an Omega either. Most of the Omegas she knew or had known just weren't built like Oliver and usually were a lot more passive as well.

"Maybe not Oliver," Diggle admits, "But, I've seen Omegas after their heats. That is not one. That's an Omega after—"

"Nope, nope. I don't want to hear it, John!" Felicity immediately cuts him off, knowing where this conversation was going.

It had probably been with the disgusting Isabel boss. Again.


	6. Denial

**Chapter 6: Denial**

No one at home questions the fact that Oliver's been out all night. Nor does anyone give him any strange looks that knowingly scream 'Omega', having thoroughly doused himself with Beta spray before he left Verdant. Fingers-crossed Dig and Felicity hadn't noticed the surprisingly Alpha scent on him early either that was Slade. There was no way he could pass that off as his own and it would no doubt add up to sex in anyone's mind very quickly.

That didn't exactly fit with the half-bullshit story he was trying to give his team partners either so the only thing he could do was try and hide it from them for the moment. If he intended to see Slade again—which he no doubt will—then he'll be caught out eventually. Hopefully he can find a better way to explain it to them by then.

Without giving them a full recap of the events of Lian Yu.

Within the next half an hour, Oliver still manages a shower, redressing himself and making sure to conceal any tell-tale signs of what he's been up to last night—both the bruises and Slade's scent that just continues to cling to him like a second skin. The former also includes, dropping into his bottom drawer and thoroughly concealing, the clothes he's ungraciously swiped of the Alpha's from the bedside's floor.

If what Oliver's heard is true, Slade's scent should suffice just as much as the real thing would. Such is the case when Oliver has to withstand the urge to take a deep whiff of the sullied fabric, draw in the man's unique scent that he knows will send jitters right down through to his knees.

_Nope_, he doesn't care about Slade Wilson at all. He was just an asshole.

With that conflict somewhat rested, Oliver also has to resist taking the suppressant he's missed for— what is now—last night, knowing he had to break off them yesterday so they wouldn't interfere with his heat cycle.

The matter of the pills screwing over his body even more so wasn't something Oliver believed but apparently some of those side-effects, of not giving your body proper break from them, had been known to induce things like drawn out heats and lubrication spotting without the Omega having to be right on heat or at all turned on.

Neither of them sounded particularly appealing so Oliver still manages to pry himself away from the bottle.

Right before he's rummaging through his bedside table again, lifting up the added wood panel there, to find them. Regardless of no one obviously having found them in the years that had past of him being gone—or having had the heart to disturb his room—Oliver still felt it necessary to keep them well-concealed.

Lest one of the house staff stumble upon them during their cleaning and not just chock it up to Oliver-Queen's-emergency-contraception-for-the-Omegas-he-fucks.

Considering he'd went to the trouble of hiding them—which he didn't usually do with the girlfriends, and once-upon-a-time just random girls, that he brought home—two and two would possibly add up. Even then the staff wouldn't tell him about it, probably just pass it on to his mother as they were technically her staff, now that his father had passed, and everything that happened under this household was hers to know.

It doesn't matter though, he needs those pills now.

Usually he would wait a few days before starting up on them again after a heat, for want of not screwing his biological clock over and allowing it a bit more time to recollect itself, but right now Oliver doesn't have that time. Better to be safe than sorry than after all. He'd only just noticed it now, once the stress of being under Felicity and Dig's prying eyes was lifted off him.

The reason his heat had died off so quickly, was because it was sated—not because it had just obligingly pissed off like he usually wanted it to. He'd willing let himself take it up the ass, granted that was part of a much larger scheme, and it wasn't exactly bad, it was nice… but Jesus Christ he was ovulating. Obviously men did only have enough blood in their bodies to power one 'head'.

Fumbling up the suppressants bottle, Oliver begins to tips the contents of it out onto his palm until he's received a small, yellow pill. Downing it immediately and without water, just wanting the thing in his system ASAP, he has to hope it's enough to work. Suppressants weren't the best form of emergency contraception, hell hardly even considered one, but it would have to work for now as he wasn't just about to go a buy a more reliable form.

Regardless of how discreet he thinks he can be, Oliver-Queen-gets-mystery-Omega-or-Beta-pregnant was not a headline he needed to be seeing anytime in the news soon. Who cares about what everyone else thought of him, but that stuff would not go down with Moira, least of all Dig and Felicity who he's already skating on thin ice with.

He could always ask the Beta to buy them for him—well not _for_ him… but shit she knows he's an Omega.

So that wasn't an option either as that would be openly admitting to the fact that he's hiding something, even more so than everyone already suspects, and that he has potentially fucked up big time.

No matter, knowing the state of his biology and the amount of testosterone he has—too much for the average Omega—it wouldn't let anything, that his mind currently frets over, happen.

Now all he has to do is go about his regular routine, play Oliver Queen for a day—not the Vigilante—repeat that until he works out a plan and everything would be fine. Or not.

All these issues pester him, and this is all before Diggle arrives with the car and he's out the door again just as quickly as he'd come in.

Sliding into the backseat, he makes sure to give Dig a stern look in the rear-view mirror that said _'don't say it'_, not needing to have a repeat of their earlier conversation.

The drive thankfully ends up consisting mostly of them sitting in silence. Diggle knowing better than to press the subject and Oliver growing somewhat anxious about wheatear or not he'd done the right thing by Slade. Or rather what were the chances of the Alpha turning suddenly hostile, or just continuing doing… whatever he was doing with his weird cult (can he call it that?).

He knows he's possibly in the safe seeing as Slade didn't appreciate Gold trying to kill him and even made sure to swoop in himself to 'look out for him'.

Which really just seemed to be Slade's way of stating he had a claim on him and was _not_ going to tolerate other Alphas trying to impose on that. _Well, too late for that._ Not only was he no virginal Omega but if he has it his way and the odds are in his favour, he will have beaten Slade to the point.

Now it was just going to become a waiting game until they see what happens. Or again, the Alpha decides to start targeting his friends and striking at his weaker points, then everything was off the table.

All Oliver can do is just wait and see now as Dig pulls the small limousine to a halt outside Queen Consolidated. Felicity is already there, waiting at her desk while he goes about his day, which mostly seems to consist of giving hollow smiles to Miss Rochev as he's often sure she can smell through his guise and tell he's an Omega.

In between those moments, he's fending off being under the equally unwanted and then so questioning gazes of Dig and Felicity.

After a couple questions and continued awkward silences, Oliver eventually cracks, really feeling that he needs his partners on his side right now rather than against him.

"So… how come we've never noticed before, y'know… when you've had your monthly cycle?"

This is the third or fourth time Felicity has pushed that button today—not including back at Verdant—and Oliver finally buckles. He'd told Sara the truth when she'd found out, so Dig and Felicity should be no different.

"'Cause I don't."

"What?" Felicity just gapes, leaning over a desk in his office where they've all gravitated to.

"I usually go every couple of months."

"That can't be healthy—"

"With or without suppressants," Oliver makes sure to reprimand, knowing medication alone likely wouldn't stunt his heats for that long.

Suppressants weren't even particularly meant to be used like that, or at least the non-prescription ones that you could buy at just about every pharmacy from the shelves weren't. Most Omegas just used them to regulate their heats, so that they'd break and go off them on weekends or just take 'sick' leave from work. Prologued usage would almost always lead to unexpected break-outs, but the thought was hard to resist of staying on them longer when Oliver knew he get away with later rather than sooner.

He had things to do after all—like protecting his city—none of which involved wanting to lie down and have a heat cycle willingly.

Of course, thanks to modern medicine, he could drop off having them in almost their entirety… Though anything stronger and more successful than just delaying a heat cycle needed to be done over the counter, or at a doctor's clinic, and then it'd be obviously that whatever meds or procedures he wanted done were intended for himself.

In that case, he wouldn't be able to remain anonymous any longer.

Whereas when necessary, Oliver would reluctantly buy the tablets himself, then he just ended up looked like a sleazy Beta who must obviously refuse to wear a condom for their Omega as suppressants were perfectly good birth control. _Not_. Enough Betas and Alphas—though they couldn't get a condom to accommodate their knots regardless—had and would still make that as an excuse.

It was a much preferable alternative to be seen as a dickhead Beta who refuses to settle down than—and he knows he'll get this when, and if, he ever does come clean—a slutty Omega who refuses to settle down.

Dig shifts awkwardly off to one side standing bodyguard, obviously not liking where this conversation was going and managing to stay professional enough to not ask too many questions either.

"What about last night then?"

Felicity doesn't slow down with her questions.

"I don't exactly get a lot of warning, and even then it's not just like I'm going to drop everything for it."

"Oliver, you could—"

Obviously Felicity doesn't take how uncouthly he handles his heats, but Diggle cuts in before she can really say anything.

"Guys, are we really having this conversation _here_?"

Oliver gives the Alpha a look, noticing his concern for him about how they were so freely talking about this particularly touchy subject of his with only mere walls separating their conversation from others. It was most definitely something he didn't needed anyone else knowing either, Oliver going quite for a moment as if someone had already surely heard them.

"Why hide it from us then?" Felicity still ends up asking, albeit lowering her voice.

Silence instantly falls over them as Oliver tries to think up a response, knowing it's not something most people wouldn't hide unless their lifestyle or job required them to. Even then to stick to such secrecy over the years seemed even odder—not even telling Thea or his friends—people that mattered about it.

It was hard to think about telling them, but most of all it was hard on himself as he gives his partners the only true response he can think of.

"It's just something I've become accustomed to lying about."

"Is this about what happened on the island?" Dig presses, though that wouldn't explain why Moira and Thea didn't know.

Almost every single person would be expected to have their dynamic presented for by their early twenties. Oliver would have been around the age when he went shipwrecked, though it wasn't a completely foreign concept if he hadn't. Omega's dynamics were known to manifest the latest, usually at least into their teenage years as the first and most foremost sign would be the heats.

"_No_, Dig," Oliver responds, with a hint of underlining irritation, "though it did force the nature of it a little more."

Force of habit or force of nature, being an Omega in uncivilized Alpha-dominated territory made you prey. Which in turn made you dead, or worse. Several close calls for him had more so forced the memo that to survive you must hide. Conceal; blend in, whatever it takes in order to not be seen as the hunted. But rather the hunter.

Although those same rules might not necessarily apply in a mostly humane society, he had lived by them long enough and knew that the city was still corrupt enough to not want to pass up old habits anytime soon. Even if he would too have to settle for some people knowing the truth, which wasn't so bad given the individuals, just as long as nothing else was said on their parts.

Dig and Felicity were trustworthy…

As right now he's feeling hard-pressed under their gazes to not say anything.

"Okay, so originally I never wanted a younger brother or sister—like I'm happy I have one now, and all—but I was an only child for nine years. You just get really used to it," Oliver laughs going into his explanation, albeit it doesn't reach his eyes.

His co-partners look at him for a second as if asking him where this is going or how it's all relevant but don't say anything. When Oliver speaks it's as if he's reluctant with his words.

"So I'm nine and mom and dad come to me asking 'how would I like a little brother or sister?' Of course I say no, but it doesn't really matter because it's happening anyway. Dad thinks I might be getting lonely, cooped up in the house all by myself sometimes, with only the staff around, though there's also another reason why, which I'm not aware of at the time."

Oliver pauses for a moment, as if contemplating his choice of words on an obviously touchy subject for him. He learns back behind his desk yet his whole body seems to stiffen slightly before he says anything more.

"I'm nearly sixteen when I find out I'm not a Beta, as I and everyone else not only presumes but is _certain_ so."

It is a horrible memory for him and he quietens feeling the effect of remembering it awash over him. He'd known he wasn't an Alpha since he was nine, possibly earlier. Although dynamics could be predetermined just like genders in utero, Alpha and Beta males as well as Omega and Beta females were almost impossible to tell apart as there were no obvious appearance differences between them.

Oliver is guessing his parents must have never asked for sex or dynamic on their first born otherwise his father might have possibly had an easier time getting over his disappointment of him.

At nine he's not overly aggressive like most other young Alphas are thought to be, nor does he have the musky smell of one that almost always gives them away at that stage.

"Not that I immediately think I'm an Omega either—just that something is seriously wrong with me and I may as well be dying for all the pain I'm in," Oliver goes on, though not pulling out of his current mindset, "Rather than just going to school the next day and then pissing off from it like I usually did, I just wag from home and lock myself up in my room.

Mom's not too happy about it—not that we really speak—but I have a fair idea what's going on now, and I don't want her knowing. Or really anyone for that matter."

It might have come as a shock to Moira that her son wasn't a Beta but it screwed him over more so as he'd lived his entire life with that mindset. That he is not in the least bit Omegan, he's a Beta through and through.

He'd laughed with Tommy after they'd both gotten laid for the first time, to Beta girls—or bitches, as they'd called them—from that prissy private school they were both made to go to. He had Omegas and Betas alike lined up at his feet, not always just to try and mooch off him either but genuinely because they wanted a bang.

There was no fucking way he was an Omega, not when everyone else was out for a piece of his cock rather than the other way around.

That's why Oliver can bolt himself up his in room confident that whatever _this_ is will pass. That nobody else needs to know, he was just sick that's all, and he'll be better in the morning. Then he could just forget all about this weirdly like-what-heats-are-supposed-to-be-like-for-an-Omega-but-definitely-not-a-heat sickness. Unfortunately, his when his father gets home from the family company he has other ideas.

"After a while I'm fairly confident nobody _knows_, things starting to look like they're easing up into the afternoon and I haven't had anyone ease try and pry me away from my room yet," Oliver begins again, dropping out bits and pieces about his first heat as he's sure Dig and Felicity can see from the overturned expression on his face—it was not good, none of them for him ever seemed to be.

"I end up just spraying the whole room in Beta-suited cologne, although that might not have been the best idea as the scent was then overly noticeable, but I've come to the conclusion that I'm definitely _not_ a Beta at this point. At least not biologically so.

I'm not sure how to tell anyone about it as I don't really want to acknowledge it myself, but I don't end up having to, or I suppose getting to. I haven't come out of my room all day or let anyone in so when my father comes home, mom's probably not in the wrong in telling him that I've stayed cooped inside all day."

Oliver's words die off and he grows silent again, dragging a pen back and forth across his desk in anxiousness. It's a memory that's painful to even think, about let alone talk about.

Diggle thankfully then finishes off his thought process for him.

"I take it your father didn't approve of you turning out to be an Omega?" the Alpha presses softly, though probably anticipating the answer all the same.

"No, I barely think he liked the fact that I 'was' a Beta. He assured me when he found out the 'truth' about my dynamic that they were all lucky they still had my sister. The Alpha he made sure to go out of his way to get after he found out he'd failed the first time, hence the large age gap between Thea and I of practically ten years," Oliver is hissing at first though eventually he's just looking down at his desk again, rubbing away at it with a pen.

"Mhm, he was one of _those_ as well," Dig responds, Oliver doesn't seem to have heard him though.

By one of those Diggle was meaning those who still actively shunned Betas as a dynamic. Those that thought Betas were still less of a dynamic and more of a flaw in society, possibly even a hindrance to it.

It doesn't surprise him to learn that Oliver's father was possibly among those people, the wealthy usually being old-fashioned in their courtships after all. By their standards, marriage was for people who couldn't form Bonds of their own—where it's also imagined that the phrase first derived from—but Omegas also wouldn't Bond to anything that wasn't one-hundred percent Alpha.

Or rather they couldn't be Bonded to, as it wasn't until the Beta rights uproar that scientists proved that Alphas were actually the ones to innate the Bonding process. Betas could do so with one another, which was possibly one of the most intimidating things about them, they could procreate and recreate without any outside influence of others.

They were like Omegas that didn't have heats and Alphas that didn't have knots. Only their females could carry young and only their males could do the siring.

In the eyes of everyone else centuries ago that was horrifying.

Even those that didn't stand by the notion that Betas were the weakest link in society—just look at them now after all, the largest dynamic worldwide—would likely attest to them not having existed as long as Alphas or Omegas had.

At least from a scientific standpoint.

The stigma of Betas being some sort of blight on society, a 'dynamic' that could possibly rob the other two of all significant had come with the theory of how they'd came to be. Still considered a theory by many rather than fact as there had never been a solid confirmation on it.

The speculation was that in a time of mass hardship—likely thought of to be the Black Death—where no one could even hope to recreate life as fast as they were all inevitably dying off—Omegas and Alphas had to evolve to best ensure their survival. Which meant neither could be co-dependant on the other to help them produce offspring.

In their weakened states, they were thought to have started producing Betas, nowhere near as fertile as their parents but better suited to the harshness of their current environment.

They didn't have the often crippling desire to form Bonds or be owned by one another. Ruts and heats were completely foreign to them so there was no worry of them suddenly becoming useless every once a month or so. With duller pheromones they were also easily stealthier and better at avoiding predators, efficient pheromone blockers still centuries away.

Their existence is thought to have prematurely saved the human race from spiralling past the point of no return, which you think everyone else would be welcoming of.

Until Betas ended up becoming the dominant dynamic at forty-four percent of the population worldwide.

It was no longer the occasional one you saw; every second and third person had seemed to end up being a Beta. Families that could once derive a lot of wealth from courting off their virile Omegas and Alphas were forever stunted—among other less important things—the population of them having dropped in favour of Betas.

Of course, with these circumstances well in place, Oliver's father would have probably been disgusted when his expected Alpha son didn't present that way and then several years on appeared as an Omega. Considering Omega males only made up about five percent of the modern world, it was somewhat of a shock to Diggle as well, Oliver continually defying the odds.

Said Omega doesn't seem to see it that way though as the next time he speaks he's completely changed the conversation.

"What happened to Barry anyway?" Oliver asks, wanting to know whether or not he still had to worry about the Beta hanging around.

And also divert the conversation from him and the slightly awkward turn the conversation had taken. Everyone seems to notice that and Felicity snaps to with an answer for him that thankfully doesn't involve turning the conversation back to him.

"He had to go back to Central City, don't worry about it though. He won't say anything," Felicity affirms, seeming sure of it herself.

Even giving him a wide smile to try and assure Oliver to lighten up about it.

It works though Oliver's mind is still wandering to places he'd rather it not and for the most part he wants to be alone to try and sift through those thoughts. Especially seeing as how most of them were about Slade and what the _hell_ he is supposed to do if anything goes wrong. He hadn't anticipated this, not at all.

It was only after a couple hours of letting it all sink in—that Slade was alive, and he had no idea what the Alpha actually wanted, other than the good, old life ruining that the likes of Malcom Merlyn seemed to be very fond of—did he realise he had no idea what he was doing either. Slade was an unexpected blind spot for him that still hurt; the more he thought about it, the less he wanted to hurt the other.

Because wasn't that what had ruined them in the first place? Unintentionally hurting one another?

Oliver doesn't notice it but he's quickly motioning for Felicity and Diggle to leave him, chuffing them out of his office with a single motion he's become quite accustomed to giving. Watching them go, he calls out to remind Felicity about how his bow would need replacing, until then he wouldn't really be getting anything done Arrow-wise.

She just continues walking on, not acknowledging his words, possibly annoyed with him. Diggle stops in the doorway though.

"Just for the record," the Alpha starts, Oliver perking up at noticing how he is failing to leave, "I don't see you as an Omega."

"Thank you, at least someone sees it my way," Oliver responds sarcastically.

xxxxxxxx

Considering Oliver's smashed the limbs of his bow, prowling the streets at night had to come to an unfortunate hiatus. There was no point in doing so as he was currently waiting on a replacement bow—which Felicity had come through on—to be custom fitted with the works and shipped out somewhere inconspicuous where they could pick it up from.

Where it wouldn't be connect with The Arrow.

Felicity had made the arrangements late Friday, so over the weekend nothing had happened, so they were still at an estimated three to five days shipping from Washington. Which apparently was the closest she could manage to Northern California, regardless the wait still irritated Oliver as the days seemed to crawl by.

His current bow could still shoot, but the angle and aim of the arrows would be thrown off, power of the bow string's draw now putting a considerable strain on the damaged limbs.

The first bow he'd ever come into possession of—Yao Fei's bow, that Shado had taken up—was still an option, though it was more of a sacred thing now. It had seen its time of usage and bloodshed, now it seemed a heady thing to even consider sullying it more, years after he'd boxed it up and put it away.

Not to dishonour her memory, or either of the Alphas, but hopefully to preserve it. Keep it away from the lifestyle Oliver had quickly adapted after coming back from Lian Yu—the path of fulfilling his father's dying wish.

That deed might have been fulfilled with preventing Malcom Merlyn from entirely levelling the Glades, but it wasn't a chapter of his life he felt he'd truly put behind him. Or ever could. If it wasn't for Tommy's death he probably would still be going by his father's list.

Oliver could never be sure if Shado would approve of this path of vigilantism he'd taken up, one of both vengeance and redemption. Even though she'd had no quarrels with avenging her father's own murder—which Oliver had carried out after an assuring nod from her, the Alpha currently entrapped by Edward Fyers—their paths were not the same.

Bringing out her bow—the last thing he had of her, the Hood being her father's—just trudged up painful memories, ones of how she'd been heart-broken when she'd known who he really was before the island. Of how he'd left his supposed girlfriend in Starling City before jumping on a yacht with said girlfriend's sister.

Then Oliver had killed her, or at least been the one to sentence Shado to death. It was a decision made within split second thinking, though Sara had been the one he'd known for the longest, apparently cared for more. Should have been the one, if he had to choose, he brought home to her family, no doubt devastated by loss.

Even though again, she was just about person he couldn't have. Wouldn't even try to now—not that he ever seriously would have, not after doing her sister and seeing all the repercussions of that—smelling the faintest hint of an Alpha on Sara the last time they saw one another. Sara was possibly bonded, which was weird to think one of them, after being so emotionally destroyed by the events that happened on the island, could find some semblance of happiness.

Maybe she'd gone back to her Alpha now; hopefully not another psychopath from the League of Assassins—or so Sara had said they were called. Albeit he wasn't fairing much better in the romance department himself.

Oliver had just let himself get knocked up by Slade Wilson, likely murder of innocent people and just generally another person to likely be added to the list of people that hated his guts, one way or another.

That was also the other reason for him staying surprisingly inside the last couple nights—other than not wanting to run around with his broken-ass bow and still be expected to adequately defend himself against people with guns.

Oliver wasn't sure how Slade was taking their current situation.

Dig was still watching the streets for him, whereas he'd let Felicity go on Sunday to Central City. He wasn't in the mood to try and stop her, the less people Oliver has on his case at the moment the better.

As well as her generally wanting to go and see Barry Allen, who had turned out to be among the casualties for particle accelerator's explosion over there. The Beta was in a coma right now, so Felicity was one less person he had to keep his current… _situation_ from.

That unfortunately meant Diggle was working overtime—where he's thrown himself into his CEO work to try and stop thinking about another certain Alpha—eyes not only on the city but also Thea's irritating boyfriend in the Glades, where people seemed to have stopped dropping dead. No more pinpricks in people's necks along with blood pouring out of their eyes, at least for now.

This causes Dig to look him up and down more so as the work days come round and Oliver can't avoid him as easily as he is so intentionally doing so now. Obviously the Alpha was starting to wonder what exactly it is that he's done to persuade their resident serum possessor to stop using it, or in turn just the by-product of killing people with it.

Slade, or whoever the Alpha had using the Mirakuru, obviously had no idea that Betas, or even the average Alpha really, wasn't. equipped to take it. If Ivo's words were to be believed.

It almost makes Oliver think he should send the other a mocking thank you card, based on how quickly Slade seemed to realize what the issue was—the killing people—and fix it. More appropriately he should attach the letter to an arrow and put it through one of Slade's windows that way they're clear that nothing's changed between them.

As of yet.

Oliver knows he hasn't warned Slade to back off though; he's just ended up taking a far more intrinsic advantage of the Alpha. His damn feelings.

Those stupid feelings that had possibly made Slade come on to him the first time round on the island. It must have been his Alpha instinct kicking in as Oliver fails to understand how Slade could have liked him at that stage with—he'll admit—what an annoying and sometimes quite useless kid he was.

Granted now that he's aware of it he's almost certain he knows how to put the Alpha back in his place.

It was possibly a very deceptive thing of him to try and do, though he wasn't above that sort of manipulation when other people's lives were at risk. Again, he's really standing in the unknown here and only now that the next Saturday is rolling around, over a week since he's seen Slade, is Oliver certain his plan has worked.

It hits him like a train wreck when he wakes up, signs of it small and insignificant enough before now that he couldn't be sure. Now, stumbling into his ensuite bathroom, Oliver is certain the signs are what he _thinks_ they are and they were definitely no longer going to be ignorable.

Turning the shower head on full throttle, he quickly strips off and throws himself under the steaming water so that it's half-scalding his skin.

Despite the water helping to blanket the pheromones, he can still detect Slade's scent intertwined with his own. His own having a surprisingly heady sweetness to it as he has yet to snuff the notion of it out with Beta perfume.

It would just end up being a waste as he's immediately grating a foamy sponge over his skin to try and purge Slade's scent from him. Not for the want of still attempting to keep his dynamic a secret but for his own sake, being the Alpha felt like he was smothering him without even having to be near him.

A side effect of the hormone suppressants was meant to be that the individual's sense of smell might dull. Normally Oliver is sure it has for him, which is probably part of the reason he can be so calm around unsuspecting Alphas like Isabel Rochev that he has to unavoidably be around every day, but right now it's like the complete opposite.

He just cannot seem to get Slade's scent off of him this morning, even after dumping a load of Beta-scented body wash on him.

_Idiot_, the still rational part of his mind protests amidst him half-scrubbing himself raw, _it's not on you, it is you!_

The thought causes Oliver to still in his rampant motions, dropping the sponge and letting the torrent of water cascade down over his neck and shoulders as he lowers himself to the floor.

He knew from the likes of his mother and father that Bonded couples would try to replicate the scent of one another, naturally producing it along with their own, to signal their status and that they would not likely—albeit it was very rare—take to anyone else.

He laughs, albeit there's no humour to it, careful to avoid getting a face full of water.

He'd done it; he'd actually managed to do it, Bonded Slade and tied him to him. Granted the factors weren't all dependant on the Omega, rather both participants on whether or not a Bond could be formed, but he wouldn't have let himself be literally screwed over unless he thought it would work.

Or at least could as Slade's feelings had been somewhat unpredictable the last one or two times they'd seen each other.

In order for this to happen though, those emotions had to be genuine, deep down the two needed to care for or love one another. Oliver Queen has faked interest before, though maybe not enough to deceive science, so why not again?

Which in short means now he has the lion caged and just has to work out what to do with it. Slade's own instincts, which if he knows by now will no doub, compel him to the opposite of what he's been trying to do. Look after his Omega and please him, rather than the Alpha potentially trying to go out and murder everyone he holds dear.

There was another slight issue though, the in long, and in long Oliver would need to work out how's he supposed to deal with this newly formed Bond, and of course still function like a normal Beta with nothing to hide from everyone else.

Oh, and then there's the matter of how his body feels like it's suddenly been kicked into overdrive, yearning for the Alpha it hasn't seen in several days.

That should be the easier part to deal with yet, as he's flicking off the shower's taps and proceeding to dry himself, towel wrapped around his waist, before making sure his room door is locked.

It still was.

Oliver then proceeds to his dresser, pulling out the bottom most drawer, flicking out the many articles of clothing he has in there that aren't in his wardrobe. He's careless with his rummaging, pulling apart many neatly folded pieces by staff until he finds what he's looking for.

Slade's dress shirt, pants and even the jocks, still carrying his scent albeit less prominently.

They hadn't been through the wash or ironed, crinkles started to appear in the crooks of the elbows and the buttoned up sleeves. It didn't matter as they were going straight back in Oliver's drawer once he was done with them, soothing his raging hormones with the Alpha's scent, no matter how artificial it might have been here.

Taking the clothes in his hands, Oliver attentively pulls them to about chest level, slightly wary even though he's alone. Still, the Omega releases the breath he wasn't aware he was holding and inhales, nose buried in the air above Slade's clothes.

It was a known practice for Bonded couples that had to be away from one another for extended periods of time. Rather than severing the ties they would collect objects of their partner that held the most of their scent, clothes in particular. It didn't completely ease the pain of separation, yet Oliver had the feeling 'borrowing' the Alpha's clothes for the moment would have been the right idea.

Resisting the urge to just completely shove his face into Slade's shirt, Oliver feels his spine quiver with the man's heady scent awash over him.

Then he's quickly throwing the clothes back into the drawer, piling everything else on top of it unceremoniously, not quite sure where his mind is going. His body feels flush and jittery though, so obviously that didn't seem to have worked.

Maybe he's just not attracted to the Alpha's scent so it would do him no good regardless?

Either way, he should probably go and see that asshole in person, make sure he's got the message and that the people of the city were off limits. Especially his friends and family.

Felicity was also due to be back from Central City today, which meant his new bow would arrive as well. The Beta having offered to detour to its inconspicuous shipping destination to pick it up, if it wasn't there too much earlier than she was expected to return to Starling.

_What time does her train come in, again?_

It didn't matter as Oliver found himself heading to Verdant anyway, having thoroughly avoided it the last couple days whilst playing the part of diligent CEO. Although he doesn't call Diggle to come pick him up, still not sure where they stand with each other—outside of work where they're both just keeping up appearances. Instead he just takes his bike, showing up at the club before it is scheduled to open and any of Thea's bartenders are in.

Or Diggle for that matter in the basement, which is somewhat surprising when Oliver lets himself into it and finds that he is alone. Or not, as the air is off when the Omega tries to allow himself relax in the atmosphere of the basement that had almost become like a second home to him.

Usually the place was kept sterile smelling, to leave as minimal traces of anyone having been there as possible. Credit was due there to the scent blocker, Oliver having invested in it not only to conceal himself as The Hood, but also cover his tracks. Which sometimes meant emptying entire cans of the stuff underneath Verdant just to make sure he was thorough.

Right now it doesn't feel like he has been though, catching the Alpha scent shortly after he's walked in the door.

Oliver goes to wheel around immediately knowing the source, but he doesn't get a chance to when said Alpha's arms snake around his chest and silence the notion of sound that tries to escape him.

_Slade…_

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**Author Notes:** Out of all the chapters so far this is the one I'm most uncertain of, comments or critiques are welcomed with open arms.


	7. Scars

**Author Notes:** Just to point this out, this fic will likely not go canon-compliant through the events of _The Promise_ (2.15).

A word of notice too, I want to try and shorten these chapters to get them out to you more often. Possibly starting this chapter… or not, depending on its length.

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**Chapter 7: Scars**

"We need to talk," Slade says, having just ensnared Oliver within his grasp.

The Omega's blood runs cold though jolting forwards fear doesn't really get a chance to settle into Oliver as adrenaline's quickly pumping through him at the first notion of a threat. Even if he knows there really isn't one. Arms around his chest, hands around his face—he hates being snuck up on, hates it with a passion.

Archers don't have the jump gotten on them, they do the jumping, otherwise they were prey, just like they were on the ground or anywhere else that's not a reasonable distance from their opponents.

He hadn't even walked through the door less than a minute ago and already Slade's pouncing on him from behind.

"Be quiet," Slade growls at him over his shoulder, the Omega making muffled cries of annoyance.

Writhing in the Alpha's grasp, Oliver only narrowly manages to catch his balance when Slade drags him backward slightly, losing his footing on the floor at the sudden motion. His feet trip so that he's reeling on his ankles and the rest of him falls backwards, the added few inches he has over Slade obviously a nuisance when the Alpha loosens his grip on him, hands detaching from silencing him to move backwards and not let the Omega fall.

He really doesn't want to but involuntarily Oliver lets Slade prevent him from falling over, head dropping into the crook of the Alpha's neck. Immediately he's feeling awkward when the Alpha isn't shoving him away, arms still a steel clasp around his body.

They'd had sex, yes—the infamously quick heat-and-rut he was now aware of—granted he felt more conflicted around Slade now, fully clothed. Must have been the heat hormones loosening his inhabitations.

"Are we alone?" Slade asks, looking annoyed as Oliver can now see the expression on the man's face whilst half-upside down and trying to right his footing.

"What do you think?" he retorts rather loudly, granted Felicity and Diggle could be anywhere.

He palms the Alpha in the chest roughly to try and break his grasp, though nowhere near enough to hurt him.

Slade seems to get the message quickly enough, releasing him and Oliver stumbles away from him, feeling his stomach tie itself in knots so close to the man. The Alpha's scent has also finally reached his nose, slightly soothing him despite him not wanting it to and still having a face full of Beta spray trickling up to his face from underneath his clothes and neck.

"I'll take that as a yes," Slade apprehends as Oliver doesn't respond, "'Wasn't sure you were going to come quietly, so I was prepared to take you by force if necessary."

Oliver visibly stiffens, back turned to the Alpha, several meters away from one another. Take him by force? Was Slade implying… of course, not. He was probably just going to make to kidnap him again like the last time they'd encountered each other.

"Well, guess what I'm not going anywhere with you," the Omega spits, not particularly wanting to go anywhere with Slade, at least not willingly.

Especially somewhere that wasn't Verdant, where he was most equipped to defend himself, if it came down to that. Which it probably wouldn't and even so he'd likely lose horribly.

"Alright, we'll do it here then," Slade says, and Oliver can practically hear the roll of eyes in his voice.

They were definitely not doing _anything_ here though, not in Verdant where Felicity was due to show up with his replacement bow anytime soon. That rational thought is quickly drowned out yet when an array of questions bombard Oliver.

"'The fuck did you get in anyway?" Oliver demands, not having seen any signs that the Alpha had broken in, whilst turning around to look Slade up and down who's looking surprisingly more casual then he ever remembers seeing him.

He's not dressed in a suit or tactical gear like the Omega's used to, instead just reminds him of a wolf in sheep's clothing, dressed to downplay his somewhat hostile appearance and appear more civil. Even in jeans and a T-Shirt though, Oliver knows better than to start feeling comfortable around Slade as the Alpha just looks at him slightly bored-like.

"Forced the door then re-locked it again from the inside," Slade shrugs, as if it was nothing.

So he had broken in, well forced his entry albeit through the back door somewhat discreetly. Oliver really doesn't care how, but why. And how long had Slade even been waiting for him to come by here?

"What were you even doing, just waiting for me to come by so you could attempt to abduct me again!"

Oliver's still not too happy about that, especially when he can't predict Slade's emotions—who right now appears calm—without Oliver's pheromones tipping the scales of reason for both of them.

"You've been avoiding the streets and down here, so I figured you'd have to show up here by the weekend. It was either that or I come knocking on your door. And besides most people would disagree that you can be abducted by your Alpha, which we need to talk about, you snake," Slade flares back, cool demeanour disappearing as the Omega looked to turn equally hostile.

Not that either of them probably imagined this was going to be a civil conversation to begin with.

Oliver nearly laughs, though the urge to do so is quickly drowned out by how pissed he is.

So Slade had noticed the Bond, possibly later rather than sooner, seeing as he was only now getting a visit from the Alpha. Slade couldn't also completely blame him in this situation, seeing as if he had never let on about _those_ emotions Oliver wouldn't have thought it possible. Then Oliver might have been the one getting the nasty surprise, because at least with Tommy he knew a Bond wouldn't take.

One whiff of another Omega or Beta on an Alpha, or vice versa in any situation were Bonding was possible, that they were obviously being intimate with usually prevented the Bonding process from happening with anyone else. Or even the Omega or Beta accepting the seed of a partner that was not their own. Because although society wasn't completely monogamous—Alphas would still give up their left nut or so for a chance with some Omegas—Bonding, or at least science, dictated otherwise.

From Slade's words it sounded like he had also bugged Verdant or was at least keeping tabs on him somehow, both Oliver was unappreciative of. Whatever the case, it was quickly disregarded in the heat of their continuing argument.

"You think I'd just idly sit by and watch as you destroyed my city? You have no idea. I might not be able to kill you, didn't seem to work the last time when I drove an arrow through your head, but you can be damn sure I'll put a noose around your neck and make sure it stays there," Oliver snaps, referring to the nigh-unbreakable quality of Bonds.

Granted using his charm and sexual prowess, was usually a thing of the past for him, it was still an effective way of getting what he wanted. Especially now that the stakes look like they've never been higher, the amount of people dead from the Mirakuru likely only the city's second highest death counter recently from a singular threat. First being the earthquake incident nearly a year ago.

He's almost surprised when Slade hasn't smashed him then, having openly admitted to his somewhat manipulation, coerced Bonding, though you almost always ran the risk of it happening—Bonding—anyway. If the circumstances were met.

When Slade responds, Oliver has to wonder if the Alpha has a lot more control than he's ever remembered or his instincts were placating him from trying to harm _his _Omega. Both was good.

"I wouldn't have expected someone like you to remain chaste for a month. Couldn't keep your hands off Shado, now could you."

That was a low blow even for Slade: Shado. Seeing as neither her nor her father had been breathing down his neck in their first encounters he might have ended up slightly more comfortable around her than said Alpha in front of him. Especially when she wasn't smashing his face into the ground every other day, unlike Slade, which did not fit with Oliver's definition of 'learn how to defend yourself'.

Refusing to rise to Slade's bait though, Oliver easily enough deflects his comment.

"Actually no, it's closer to twenty-eight days, the average Omega's heat cycle," Oliver chides, not mentioning that this was scientific proof of that fact.

He'd done his co-worker about just over that limit. Though he's not sure if it would have mattered as he wasn't the receptive partner there and the Beta spray all but culled anyone else's scent from clinging to him. Including his own natural one.

Slade just snorts at him, either not wanting to know or not caring about whether or not he'd actually been chaste.

"So what, you're just going to stay on suppressants for the rest of your life? Hide from the world another secret like the coward you are!"

Of course Slade knew about the suppressants… probably could smell them in his sweat last week, and even though many years had passed, could tell how Oliver's current scent greatly differentiated from the almost sickly sweet one he had on Lian Yu. Too great a change in a person's scent to have happened by natural causes, like aging or Bonding.

As an Alpha, who knew what he really smelt like under all that false pretence, Slade no doubt might have be feeling cheated. Or at least confused when Oliver's masked scent was sending different signals to what the Alpha knew to be true.

In this situation, Oliver is just continually rubbing it into Slade's face that he's got him right where he wants him.

"Oh no, I'll come clean eventually. I'm going past my prime and if I'm lucky I'll be able to go off suppressants by time I'm thirty-five," Oliver admits, too hoping that once his body hits menopause.

It couldn't be coming soon enough, the day he no longer has to worry about unwanted Bondings and Alphas trying to molest him every which way. Which right now he didn't have to worry about the former either, to a lesser extent, as he currently has a pissed-off, recently-Bonded Alpha in front of him that needs more worrying about.

"What are you thirty—"

"Twenty-eight," Oliver corrects, not entirely sure why he felt the need to.

"Even worse," Slade glowers, "prodigal son leaves no heir to his family".

Of course… Slade knew about that too.

"Shut up," Oliver snaps, using his height over the Alpha to try and make himself feel that little bit more confident, "you have no right to come into _my_ city and criticise _my_ lifestyle when you have idea what it's like!"

Oliver can feel his control over the situation slipping as the Alpha easily gets under his skin, seeming to know all the ins-and-outs of his life. The Arrow, his dynamic, it was like none of his secrets were safe anymore if they weren't safe from Slade.

"Maybe I don't," Slade starts, Oliver almost thankful when the Alpha doesn't seem like he's further prying, "but I know it isn't the island where every Alpha was out to pound your ass."

"Well, it would be if every Alpha here knew I wasn't a Beta!" Oliver spits, watching Slade roll his eyes again.

"They probably wouldn't know what to do with you, but I do."

Removing his hands from his pockets, Slade goes to grab for the Omega's wrist but Oliver quickly flails away from him, the Alpha not using the necessary force he'd need to subdue such an Omega.

"Fuck off!" Oliver cusses, moving out of the Alpha's reach.

Not content to let Slade put his hands all over him within the same moment he feels like he's getting a lecture. But the Alpha does it anyway, quietly moving up behind him, hands on his shoulders quicker than Oliver can blink.

"Maybe if we bring you into heat again we'll see how willing you are."

Oliver cringes, knowing what the Alpha said to be very true and feeling his breath caressing over his collarbone, sluicing over the same area where Slade had left his half-bites, half-kisses. Resisting his more natural urge to panic and again swat the Alpha away, the Omega squashes it down in favour of trying to get the situation back under his control.

"If I come into heat, you'll also go into rut," Oliver whispers.

In Bonded pairs, if the recipient went into heat—natural or otherwise, brought on by their partner—as well as them being interested, their partner would be hard pressed to not have sex with them.

Slade growls back at him, obviously knowing what Oliver was getting at. That the Alpha was unable to resist clamouring onto a willing Omega in front of him, as shown by the past week's events.

"Don't you dare not think you aren't a slave to your biology either!"

Oliver smirks at that, even if Slade doesn't see it, pulling everything back under his oversight.

"I don't. I've just gotten used to being better at _not_ being what my dynamic would suggest."

With that Oliver slipped out from under the Alpha's hands, Slade not bothering to try and keep him there.

"You play with fire, you get burned, kid," Slade huffs, not bothering to follow the Omega.

How very rich of him to say. Didn't Oliver mention he hates the 'kid' thing as well? It was almost demoralising at this point. Right now he's willing to chastise Slade as well though. Play the 'submissive' Omega if that's what it took to get the Alpha off his back.

"You wouldn't do anything to hurt your precious Omega? Or try to upset him, now would you?" Oliver coos, giving the Alpha a quirk of his eyebrows.

"Not if you don't continue being a little shit I won't."

"What, decided you wouldn't kill anyone either this week to see if I'd talk to you?" Oliver half-seethes, finding himself pressed up into a steel table as the Alpha has started walking him backwards, granted still keeping a steady distance apart from one another.

"That ain't got nothing to do with me, kid. You have no idea how many people I am currently keeping in line," Slade protests, "besides, up until a year or so ago, the Starling City Vigilante still left arrows in everyone's chests."

Oliver feels like Slade is lying to him through his teeth, yet the Alpha trying to imply like their methods were one in the same is even more irritating.

"Those were people poisoning this city, I had an oath," which Slade doesn't need to hear about, "whereas these are innocent people you're killing for the sake of your own… whatever!"

No one was allowed to get hurt at Oliver's expense, no one. Especially when Oliver's not sure what's he done to make Slade's hatred burn that deep, to where other people needed to suffer for it, other than defend himself when he was about to have his spine snapped.

"Yeah, and look at who just saved your ass the other night from becoming an Alpha's bitch," Slade cusses as they're right up in the face of each other.

So close that their breaths ghost over one another and the agitated play of tendons is visible underneath their skins. Their eyes meet—dark brown and blue—where Oliver can tell Slade's annoyed, though not blatantly angry with him. Slade's natural instincts were possibly dulling his aggression, just as Oliver would expect. Rather they would do the opposite, tell him to protect his Omega.

This close Oliver can also smell himself on Slade, the-definitely-not-a-Beta-smell of his own under the Alpha's own musky aroma. There's probably more of an accurate representation of his natural scent there than there currently is on himself.

It distracts him slightly, so it's a moment before he responds while Slade just presses in front of him looking intimidating. Oliver's not feeling threatened however.

"Oh, I'm sorry, were you expecting a thank you?" Oliver responds sarcastically, 'Cause I think I was doing just damn fine and didn't need you to come to my 'rescue' either."

That might have been a lie but Oliver was never going to admit when he was too weak to defend himself.

"Yeah, you were doing just damn fine too after I stuck my dick in you."

"Just returning the favour, seeing as you liked sticking your hands all over me so much last time!"

Granted neither of them were in a particularly good place at that time.

Slade's practically on top of him now, Oliver feeling the impulse to back down and make himself smaller in the presence of _his _obviously displeased Alpha. Both of Slade's hands are on either side of him and he is scuffling backwards hard-pressed against the steel frame of the table just to create some semblance of distance between them.

Instinctively, Oliver's reaching for his bow—anything to arm and defend himself with, or at least have the comfort of it nearby.

He's completely empty-handed though after a couple seconds of fumbling around, the table obviously being a barren one and not accompanied by anything of usage to him. Thankfully Slade chooses that moment to halt in his painfully slow crawl towards him, looking at him somewhat baffled and equally annoyed, like Oliver's struck a nerve with his words.

"Don't lie to me, kid," the Alpha growls, voice thick with his natural accent slipping more into it, "If you think I did anything that counted as jumping your bones before last week, and there was that last time—both of which you were incredibly _asking_ of—,you're sorely mistaken. If I did, you certainly would have known about it."

Was Slade fucking with him?

"Oh, I knew about it all right, still gave me plenty of bruises before but this time there wasn't any scarring at least," Oliver grits out, the words not entirely what he meant to say.

Yet, stuff it. The Alpha's annoying him.

This time round Slade was a lot more gracious with him yet he's still wearing a chain of bruises around his neck, which has been particularly difficult to hide, restricting his wardrobe options. It was like the world's worst hickey, nothing short of a miracle in Oliver's head, all things considered, when he's probably had more than a hundred in his life. Still purple and flaring up slightly with pressure put on it after a week.

Slade had done him worse though—not including his idea of 'training' either—on the freighter, which hadn't even really added up to proper intimacy in his books. He still had ended up a lot worse though than he had after this past Thursday's night.

"What scar?" Slade half-demands, narrowing his gaze at Oliver.

_Oh yeah,_ Slade didn't know, and if he had noticed the scar he had probably just chocked it up to another one of the dozen scars Oliver had gotten on the island. He doesn't _really_ want to talk about it—not about how'd he had stuck an arrow head through the Alpha's eye, granted unintentionally—and seeing as Slade seemed to avoiding the subject too, the safest bet just seemed to be to try and brush it under the rug.

"Just one of many," Oliver says, with an underling tone that said'end of discussion'.

Slade doesn't seem to like his vagueness though as within seconds the Alpha's hands are underneath his thighs, elevating him backwards onto the steel table. Oliver snaps at Slade as he's dropped backwards albeit smoothly, grabbing at the Alpha's wrists as Slade starts pulling up his jacket.

"What are you doing?" Oliver seethes, knowing how futile his clawing over Slade's arms was all the same.

Slade easily enough wrestles the Omega's hands away from his—who's not bothering to try and kick or knee him given the awkward angling and that he'd probably just end up hurting himself. Slade then resumes hauling up Oliver's shirt where majority of his scarring seems to consist, Oliver submitting quickly enough.

Allowing the Alpha to remove his shirt as best as possible without letting him up, knowing how useless his struggle was as what Slade wanted, he could always get by force. Even before the Mirakuru.

Maybe he shouldn't have been so snarky about it as then Slade wouldn't have been half-stripping him down here if Oliver had just been complacent to shut up. But he'd always rather not unveil the physical reminders of how Slade had hurt him, just like how the Alpha wasn't going to pull of his eyepatch and show Oliver the damage he'd done there. He hadn't taken the Alpha's whole eye out, from his vague stupor-like remembrance of the scenario, but he imagined Slade was blind in that eye regardless.

Oliver huffs, trying to remain annoyed at Slade but intrinsically twinges when the man runs his—surprisingly smooth—palms over his stomach, tracing up and over the muscle density there to one of the larger scars he has. Had Slade's hands always been that smooth? Not that the Omega was paying attention, but maybe it was the serum flowing through the Alpha's blood that kept his hands from permanently tarnishing.

Slade meets his eyes for a moment, brows quirked, as if to say '_which bloody scar?'_ or '_what did you say I did?_' and Oliver shifts slightly, unsure how to respond to his unspoken questions.

"Leave it," Oliver presses, attempting to push Slade's hands off him again.

"No, I want to see," the Alpha growls, telling him to oblige.

The Omega doesn't cease with his ineffective struggling however, Oliver not liking how Slade's hands were again over where they once were, how close they were to the scar he'd left on him. This one not from training or knife gashes but from where the Alpha's fingers had slipped through his skin like paper.

"You had your looking and touching last week, now get off of me," Oliver urges, anxiousness creeping into his voice.

He doesn't like it, didn't think he could still get so worked up about it either. Because between the ongoing guilt of thinking he'd killed one of his only friends on the island, there was the also the matter Alpha could have really killed him. Easily. Just like how easy it seemed to be for Oliver to miscalculate the range of his strike and leave Slade with an arrow in his eye.

_You had no choice_, his mind might argue but by the same token he had been the one to inject the Alpha with the same substance that could have poisoned his mind that way. Warped his actions and made him do things he usually would not have.

Unfortunately for him, Slade doesn't stop or seem to slow with his touches or observations on the Omega's upper body.

"Yeah," Slade says, seeming to agree with Oliver's earlier sentence, "I barely touched you though."

Slade's and Oliver's opinion would have to disagree on that.

"'Might have left you a couple bruises, nothing you wouldn't get in a fight. You still whinging about that nick I gave you on your back below your ribs or something?"

_Why can't Slade just drop it_, Oliver has to mentally ask himself.

As if to empathise the point, Slade weaves his hand to around Oliver's chest, where he's bunched up the Omega's top and jacket, before slinking that palm underneath him. Even without the apparent added strength, Slade props Oliver up into a seated position, easing up off the Omega albeit moving his other hand to about the midpoint of Oliver's spine.

There's a thin mark there, healed over without any proper stitching so that the change in the skin texture is distinctly noticeable when the Alpha runs his thumb over it.

Oliver doesn't seem to appreciate it as his response is to glower and try to work his trapped wrist out of Slade's hand. His eyes betray that he's getting worked up and the Alpha can only light-heartedly chuckle amused, still keeping his hold on the Omega.

"Don't like it when I get touchy, do we?" Slade coos, "'Should have thought about that before you were so enthusiastic to get into bed with me."

Slade just tsks, Oliver still fighting to get away from him yet not particularly forcefully, while he gravitates his free hand over the blemishes of the Omega's body. There was some he'd never seen before or really bothered to take notice of whilst screwing Oliver's brains out but that couldn't be helped.

Most of the ones on the Omega's back felt like training wounds, large proportions of split skin from bamboo lacerations or the rare times he'd pulled out his katana on the kid to try and better motive him to get his shit in gear.

Above that, right shoulder blade, is the entry wound from Yao Fei's arrow. Slade's knows this because it was the scar the kid used to complain about the most, that he'd been unnecessarily shot from behind and it may as well have ruined his flawless skin. Or at least that's all he could make out from Oliver's bitching.

"Let me go," Oliver hisses as if on cue, using the free hand he's trying to push Slade away with to finally punch him in the chest.

His fist connects though feeling the Alpha barely flinch in response causes Oliver to deflate slightly.

"You asshole!" the Omega spits, retracting his fist although Slade goes nowhere.

"Now, now wouldn't want you to hurt yourself," Slade almost mocks and Oliver scowls back at him.

Sweeping his fingers past the sword slashes left from Billy Wintergreen on Oliver's chest, Slade stops when he notices a wound he doesn't recognize. It's above the Omega's left hip indent, where several punctures wounds have happened at the same time to almost form a crescent moon shape. They're close-knit and could have possibly passed for a shark bite had there been more segregations.

"What'd you do to yourself here? One of those wolves on the island get you?"

Slade sees Oliver visibly swallow at his words with the expression that told him '_I don't want to talk about it_'. His face looks flush like all fight has left him, the Omega seeming to have instantly gone from being hostile towards Slade's too close presence to looking like a deer caught in a car's headlights.

Although Slade still really hates the kid—particularly because of the waking up with one of Oliver's arrow's sticking out of his head for seemingly no fucking reason and being left for dead—but right now he's concerned about him.

He's hiding something.

"Nothing, now let me go," Oliver says, voice small and pulling back against the Alpha.

Slade tightens his grip slightly on _his_ Omega's wrist, Alpha protective instincts kicking into overdrive when Oliver continually avoids his gaze.

"No, not now until you tell me what's up with you."

Warning bells sound off in Oliver's head, telling him to get away from Slade.

What the hell was he thinking, trying to keep the Alpha at a distance from by Bonding him? It was the complete opposite of what a Bond implied, as shown through the last week that the mere scent of Slade sent the compulsive need through him to want to be around him.

At least not right now as without hormones clouding his judgement, having Slade's hands on him intimately in any way, shape or form, was brewing up flashbacks he'd rather forget.

_Do… what does he do?!_

Oliver's shaking, eyes wide and it's not until a seemingly pacified Slade removes himself from him does the Omega notice. Unlike _last_ time, where the Alpha hadn't done the noticing.

"Kid, what's wrong? I'm not gonna hurt you."

Oliver's not sure what Slade is supposed to be referring to, the matter of hurting him physically, emotionally or via doing so through the people he cared about.

Either way it didn't matter as the mention of it causes the Omega to hiss back at the Alpha, thumping Slade in the chest as he scrambles upwards off of the table, yanking his clothing back down into place.

"That's what you said last time!"

Slipping off and away from the table, Oliver snarls at Slade when he tries to follow him, who looks slightly taken aback.

He's worked up, strung up—was even before Slade showed up in the picture, always with the weight of his crest-fallen city on his shoulder—but having a man he thought he'd once killed, intentions unknown, show up in his life again pulls that mortal coil so much tighter.

Especially when he's not exactly sure how he feels about said Alpha and vice versa.

Either way, the past week had shown that the cool exterior he was usually able to mask behind and equally used to play The Vigilante with was practically void in Slade's presence. The cracks in it even starting to show at the thought of the newly trudged up memories of Lian Yu.

_Fuck_… just when he thinks he has it all under control, can protect everyone with no risk to them, he has to go and crack under pressure. He's so stupid, weak, just like always.

Behind him, the Omega's back turned, he hears Slade's approach, possibly uncertain how to take his mood swing that possibly looks to the Alpha that it's came out of nowhere.

Oliver's just trying to compose himself when Slade attentively places a hand on his shoulder, causing him to wheel around on the Alpha.

"No! You don't get to apologize now for what you did!" Oliver yells, slapping the Alpha's hand away from him.

Slade's expression quickly contours from one of rare compassion to anger.

"Well, I wouldn't have to if you hadn't stuck an arrow in my face!"

Oliver feels a twinge of guilt stab him through his fury, his response to the Alpha's outburst not immediate.

The urge to punch Slade, defend himself, is there. Especially when he's grown more used to physical assault than verbal and dishing it out in the same way. The sliver of his mind still retaining reason knows his violence is useless against Slade though, which he easily enough restrains himself from doing.

Knowing what he'd done to the Alpha, albeit accidently—probably damn near killed him—was likely unforgiveable.

Unlike how Slade in the situation had only been responding to how an Alpha usually did to an Omega in heat. Nurse them, bed them, knot them and put them out of their misery. Considering Slade had even restrained himself at all for a while was admirable, Oliver knowing better even despite his irritation that most Unbonded Alphas wouldn't have shown him that much constraint in such a situation.

They would have taken advantage of his weakness, tried to sate his heat regardless of how much consent he gave.

And didn't he at least give Slade the consent to do so, not matter how half-assed the verification of that fact might have been. And the Alpha had waited for that before he'd done anything serious, had left him for the most part alone, when he ran off into the woods at night, crying out and always with the potential to give their position away to anyone of Fyer's men who stumbled upon him.

And what did he do in return? 'Kept Slade at a distance and nearly killed him when he'd gotten a bit too rough with him.

Even though it was his fault for needing to be saved in the first place. His fault for being too weak to prevent Ivo from taking him. For walking around in the open so close to his heat when really he should have been in hiding.

For causing Slade to run off in the first place in the grief of Shado's death because he didn't save her.

Slade just looks at him, eyes alive with burning intensity and Oliver feels the guilt of the situation singe his insides. Even if he'd never felt quite as bad about it until now, the Alpha coming at him with accusations. His anger melts away like ice under the gaze of the Sun, dwindling as Oliver steps backwards and grows passive under the Alpha's fury.

"I didn't mean to," he murmurs, though Slade hears him clearly.

"You liar!" Slade spits back at him, hands dragging through his hair in agitation.

"It was an accident—"

Oliver tries to reason, knowing firmly in himself he'd never wanted to really hurt Slade, but the Alpha doesn't see it that way.

"Don't say it! I saved your sorry ass from Ivo and you repay me by 'killing' me and leaving me for dead! What was it? What was it that was so bad only know do you decide you want my fucking knot again? I was going to give you exactly—"

Slade's nearly flown into a fit of rage when Oliver shouts over top of him, hands clenching into fists at his sides.

"You were going to kill me!"

Their conversation immediately comes to a halt, Oliver stiffening after the words have left his mouth. Wondering whether it was the right thing to say when he can no longer determine the emotions crossing the Alpha's face. He wants to glare back at him but it's a half-hearted attempt at best when Slade's expression growa sullen, looking like the Alpha's entire demeanour has crumpled.

"You liar!" Slade tries to hiss but his voice cracks in the middle.

Oliver instinctively takes a step back though Slade takes one forward.

"Slade, I—"

"No!" Slade growls, low and without any of its usual fury, instead replaced by something Oliver can't quite place.

"Don't you lie to me, not about this... I kept your near useless arse alive for months, fucking Omegas like you don't survive in the wild. They die—they get raped and killed, because it's like the first sign of a lamb in front of a pack of starving wolves. Sometimes I was saving your arse week in and week out, because no matter how hard you tired they'd always catch hint of your scent."

Oliver remembers that—Fyer's men—the lengths he, or rather they, had to go to prevent them from stumbling upon them. The pleasing smell of an Omega in heat, the siren's call that could go on for miles, calling or warnings its intended targets. Either way his heats on the island were hardly ever discreet, more often than not they attracted unwanted attention. Meaning people died left and right, courtesy of Slade—who for the first couple times was always perched not far away—even after Oliver would hiss at him to piss off and not follow him.

The Alpha never did anything though, wouldn't alert him that he was there either until the _shank_ of a sword from its sheath rang out followed closely by the sliding of it through enemy flesh. They might have looked at each other for a moment—soldier's body falling to the floor of the underbrush between them—Slade slightly twitching to distinctly keep from not coming near him. Oliver would always just scuffle away back into the shrub though, without thanks, only knowing he had to get away.

Get away to where it was safe, only there were no safe places. Not when Slade was easily enough able to track him and set up camp nearby, him completely oblivious to the other.

And now Slade's done it again. So discreetly set up work, not even miles away from him, this time in his city, _his_ territory and Oliver wouldn't have known any better unless Slade hadn't let him.

Oliver visibly swallows, not knowing what to say, but stricken by the Alpha's words and the memories it entailed all the same.

When Slade speaks again, the anguish in his voice is clearly detectable.

"You were always the most difficult thing about that wretched island yet I kept you alive all the same, for months! And now you have the indecency to try and tell me that I was going to kill you before you tried to kill me."

_He doesn't know_—Oliver thinks—Slade doesn't know.

Even as the Alpha's eye meets his own, gaze dark and half-accusing, like daring him to lie, lie again, like Slade's seems to think he's done the entire time.

And maybe he should, but how does he lie when he's been telling the truth the entire time? How is he supposed to tell Slade that his love was painful, how he'd hurt him enough though the Alpha might think he was the only one that had gotten hurt here.

How is Oliver supposed to say that Slade's attempt to 'care for him' back on Ivo's freighter was closer to killing him?

He should lie, he really should. He's good at that when no one will be getting hurt because of Oliver's kept secrets.

He doesn't.

"It wasn't your fault…"

"What wasn't?" Slade perks up, before roaring at him "The part where you stabbed me in the head!"

Oliver flinches, forcing himself to still and take the man's anger as Slade needed to know. If he tells the truth—which he would have assumed the Alpha had known all along, why Oliver had left him for dead because he thought he was dead, hadn't meant to hurt the Alpha had only wanted him off of him —maybe it will bury the hatchet of the situation.

Slade still seething, Oliver waits until a moment of silence has passed between them, continually avoiding the Alpha's gaze.

Attentively, he goes for the side of his jacket, ruffling it up along with his shirt, pulling up the corner of the left side.

"I didn't notice it at first," Oliver begins, the Alpha still staring at him with a gaze like a hawk's, "after… I was prepared to let you knot me, 'cause no harm there and I trusted you. You'd been… really good around me… It might have been a stupid idea but I don't think either of us were in the right frame of mind to know any better"

Oliver slows, forcing himself to remember distinctly what had happened, the parts he would purposely try to forget about.

"I wanted it, yeah I wanted it. I was in too much pain to not want it. But…"

There was always the but, Oliver pausing to swallow and avert his gaze from Slade not wanting to see the look on his face.

"There was blood… from where you'd had your hands one me, five fine punctures on the left… Which I didn't notice until after… 'cause I was so worked up about what had happened, but it still hurt."

They'd been so deep, _so deep_, at the time. Ached the entire as Sara dragged him from Ivo's freighter, had pleaded with him they had to go. He'd need stitching if he didn't hope to bleed out. They didn't look life-threatening, as he was able to push them aside in his heartbroken agony, but Sara hadn't been willing to take that chance.

"No."

"You were so rough… I thought I could take it but I couldn't… and I knew I had to do something… I didn't want to hurt you, didn't mean to. It wasn't your fault though."

Oliver knows he might just be babbling by now as he's barely acknowledging Slade in front of him.

"No…"

"The scar… I deserved it; it was like the last thing I had to remember you by…"

"No, you lie!"

Oliver flinches, gaze snapping back onto Slade where the Alpha's hand is wrapped around his wrist. Immediately tugging it away from where the Omega is half haphazardly holding up the side of his shirt.

Not bothering to push Slade away, Oliver lets the Alpha place fingers over his body. He knows what Slade is going to see without even having to look.

"Not the first scar you gave me… but definitely the most painful one."

Maybe not in terms of the wound itself but what it signified. _So right it had been… so wrong it had gone._

"You lie!" Slade says, forcing their eyes to meet by giving Oliver a half jolt, "You said it yourself you spent another four years on that island."

That was true…

"You really don't remember?" Oliver forces himself to say, voice cracking as he stares into the darkness of the Alpha's eye.

Sees how much the Alpha wants to deny what he's saying.

Eyes still locked with Slade's, he takes the Alpha's hand resting on the bottom of his ribcage, pulls it downward and lets his thumb wrap around the back of his hip.

Slade looks down and so does Oliver.

Slade's fingertips are near-on perfectly conformed to the scar, the tissue left over. Inch by inch of skin with the small gaps of unscathed areas in-between.

When Slade pulls away, Oliver forces himself to look back at him, instinctively feeling the need to apologize, though not sure what for. Only that he should.

"Slade, I—"

His words are cut off by the door slamming.

And with it Slade was gone.

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**Author Notes:** The scar on Oliver's left hip _is_ actually there in canon, you can see it in the promo pics.

This chapter was another nuisance to write, I'm still unsure of it, so feedback would be greatly appreciated.


	8. The Reaping

**Author Notes:** Starting this chapter, this is my attempt at shorter chapters and more often.

For those of you who feel like you haven't been spending enough time with Slade lately, this chapter's for you!

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**Chapter 8: The Reaping**

Exiting Verdant, Slade staggers outside unable to handle it anymore.

What Oliver was saying, it was all just becoming white noise. He didn't want to hear it anymore and he doesn't have to as it was becoming thoroughly drowned out by his own self-hatred screaming at him.

_He thinks you're a monster._

He slams the door hard behind him , somewhat involuntarily, not caring if it breaks or falls off its hinges.

Only wanting to give Oliver the signal not to follow him, don't come after him as Slade's not quite sure what he'll do. His heart's thumping behind his ribcage, faster than normal which is already quicker than a normal person's—too fast, and he's crumpling onto the side of his Lamborghini to keep from want of falling to the ground.

_He's right y'know?_

Slade narrowly avoids crushing the door handle in his anguish as he fumbles for it, eyes still on Verdant as he tries to compose himself. He'd parked the car really conspicuously too, between the club and a dead end of a wall, the luxury vehicle possibly looking really out of place in the Glades.

_Did you see the look on his face?_

He'd been too pissed off, too worked up to care about concealing it or anyone noticing it as he sped through town to the crappier edges of the city not even an hour ago. He'd waited too long, had waited all week, for the opportunity when Slade could pounce on Oliver and continue their alleged discussion.

_He says it's not your fault, but it is…_

Originally, he thought the idea of The Vigilante finding out what _they_ were up to, or at least Slade's involvement, would be one part annoying and the other part slightly amusing—that Oliver knew that the he was going to hurt the Omega just as he had hurt him.

Blood declaring he had The Arrow still lit his veins on fire though, pissed him right off that the Beta couldn't follow a simple set of instructions.

To stay away from The Vigilante.

But the Beta obviously found him way too threatening to his campaign, too risky a threat to the Beta's reputation to let run around. Lest The Vigilante start doing some digging, shifting through Sebastian's past and could likely find something incriminating given his resources.

Sebastian wouldn't be running for mayor or getting his shining city of gold to rebuild into his own image—Blood's half of the deal for his work, albeit how disobedient it was becoming—if The Vigilante started slandering him.

Or just put an arrow in him.

Even without The Arrow's direct interference, if such information were to land on Laurel Lance's or her father's desk, the Beta would likely not see the outside of a cell. Sebastian would talk too, he'd break, would give Slade's name away, because although efficient _sometimes _the Beta was still a coward.

If that were to happen, although guns and the police were no threat to him, Slade would still be forced to flee Starling City, likely America as well as there would no doubt be an arrest warrant out for him.

He'd rather not be a fugitive either (because he will resist arrest in every sense of the word), so it shouldn't surprise Slade that Blood went ahead and tried to have The Vigilante put into the ground anyway. More so when Blood decided the former alone wasn't enough, has to torture and humiliate the one who has no doubt plagued his mind with feelings of anxiousness for weeks now.

Slade was even more surprised with himself when he got defensive about Oliver though.

Sure, he had told Blood to stay away from the Omega in the first place for want of not trying to kill him, though that obviously didn't stopped Sebastian from getting unintentionally too close, at least for Slade's liking, to Oliver and he can't intervene there without looking somewhat suspicious.

So he had let it slide, hoping the Beta wouldn't connect the dots between The Arrow and Oliver Queen. But when Blood had rung him up like a dog bringing back a prized bone to its master expecting a pet he had wished the Beta were in front of him so he could throttle him.

Arrogant piece of shit Beta. Couldn't follow a simple set of instructions.

Sebastian was too happy with himself to be intimidated over the phone though, had just gleefully went on about how his Brother had the vigilante Omega pinned, oh, and he was going into heat too.

_Fuck_…

Slade had cursed allowing Sebastian to have Alphas under his scrutiny to begin with, yet Betas probably wouldn't have made much of a difference, were still known to put their hands over a ready Omega. Albeit less intently than an Alpha would.

Slade doesn't even remember what he was doing at the time Blood came calling—likely not sleeping even at the hour—only that every other thought was disregarded when he hears an Alpha has got Oliver cornered on the other side of town.

It might have be his Alpha instincts rearing up but no other Alpha—or anyone for that matter—was allowed to be near _his_ Omega in heat.

Slade was the first Alpha to be granted that honour and he would be the last.

Because although Oliver still needed to be punished and made to suffer for his actions, practically trying to kill him and gutting Slade more in the feelings than anything else, the Omega never appreciated anyone near him during his heats.

This was a known fact from spending months on the island with the kid, weeks that would always turn into anxious waiting games of how much attention Oliver would attract when really he could solve _both_ of their problems in a heartbeat.

Oliver was vigilant in fobbing his advances off though, no matter how many people he ended up having to kill as a by-product of the Omega's pheromones sending out invitations to every Alpha that he was in heat, albeit unwilling to likely stay put for anyone.

Such resistant and unwillingness was more something Slade would have expected from a Bonded Omega. Not that he would ever claim to be an expert on Bonded behaviour himself, having never been so himself or having really been that way inclined.

He was an intelligence spy for Christ's sake, he didn't have time for Omegas and even if he did, leaving them and being apart from one another for his missions constantly would have be too painful.

It would have been far too much strain to be expected to maintain a Bond over, and many Bonded pairs had died over such heartbreak.

But when he had an Unbonded Omega, not even several feet from him, going through a horrendous heat. Not only worn down by it but by malnourishment, the harshness of the conditions he had to live in the Omega has yet to adapt to or will not likely ever be properly suited to, screw it, screw everything.

All that Bonding shit, that was very well possible, but what had it mattered when they all could have likely ended up dead on that island anyway?

And Slade would have been be damned if he doesn't at least try and enjoy himself back then. Or be driven insane by the Omega in agony making a ruckus as he stumbled away from him.

Of course, Oliver didn't appreciate Slade following him, was too stubborn to realise that he'd been looking out for the Omega.

Had to make sure that no one kidnapped Oliver lest he be tortured and give up his location. Slade also watched to make sure the kid didn't get himself raped and killed, did even after the mess with Fyer's men blew over and they were deemed slightly safer.

The only time he was ever prepared to stop tracking and looking out for Oliver during his heats was when he had half his face blown off, chasing said Omega to try and tackle him to the ground so the kid didn't get himself killed by an explosion.

He made Shado promise to find Oliver, even if he didn't end up making it.

To go after Oliver as he would have been nearing a heat cycle soon—about every eight weeks was around when the kid seemed to go—and with their new visitors on the island—whom Oliver seemed to have been taken by—they couldn't afford to be as lax about it as they had grown to be.

Letting Oliver just nick off into the woods unsupervised until Slade found he was too anxious to not go after him.

He waited partially because he's not sure if when he gave chase to the kid that Shado would follow as well.

They'd been like kindred spirits the two of them, Alphas that seemed to know nothing better than how to survive, and that's why they'd gotten along so well. But he'd been hard-pressed enough with trying to get anywhere with Oliver then and would prefer not to have the competition.

For another Alpha, Shado's had still managed to be a satisfying lay though, both of them likely needing the distraction from the Omega in heat running off from them. Shado complained at first, obviously not wanting to be the receptive partner _again._

It's in her nature not to; just as Slade could never blame her—smelling the change in Oliver's scent that signalled he'd go into heat within hours—for trying to bang him down by the river only hours ago that day. For taking advantage of the kid's guilt over just murdering someone to try and get close to him, not just emotionally.

Shado had mildly teased him, had said she'd show him how it was done then had chased after Oliver's ass, which usually she had more respectful of seeing how he obviously felt. He discreetly had followed his fellow Alpha, even though when Oliver truly comes into heat and departs their presence, Slade would be telling Shado to mind their camp whilst he minds Oliver.

Never quite sure yet how to handle someone else around the Omega in heat, especially another Alpha, only knowing he had wanted them away from a ready Oliver.

It never happened though, just like Slade thought and knew from personal experience. Oliver wouldn't stay for Shado so she had to reluctantly settle for giving the Omega control of the situation. Which did nothing for Oliver's on setting heat but obviously the kid's tried either way.

Shado had let herself be the receptive partner thankfully again for him, yet it all ended up being for nought as he couldn't quite distract himself from the thoughts of the kid roaming his mind. That he should have been out there watching Oliver, making sure nothing happened to him, because although their position looked safe and secure, no more enemies to run and hide from, Slade had known better.

So did Shado, who couldn't help but notice when the name that left his lips in quiet rasps wasn't hers and that he purposely took her from behind, like one would need to with an Omega male.

The way he purposefully left her breasts and vulva alone so as not to break the image.

Yet Oliver would be taller, broader in the shoulders, would likely support his weight draped over top of him a lot better than Shado's smaller frame had, and he ended up losing the illusion anyway.

Shado didn't say anything—letting another Alpha screw her even when it didn't do much by either of them except waste a little bit of their time—because if there had been any stronger or equally so aspect in Shado to her strength, it was her understanding.

That's why when the sun was riding low in the sky and they'd both broken away from one another, Shado gave him the gesture to leave, go after his Omega.

That's why, even though he had always asked Shado to stay away from Oliver during heat, when Slade had his face half torn-off, he thought he could entrust that task of watching over the Omega to Shado.

He had wanted to go himself—vigorously chase after Oliver and find wherever the bastards where holding him captive were, be there for Oliver when he inevitably went into heat even though he would reject every advance he has.

But knew he couldn't do any of those things when he could barely stand.

Shado took the task diligently of foremost finding but most of all watching over Oliver. Even though she wouldn't leave his side at the time and didn't want him attempting to move anywhere either. She seemed to treat the situation just as seriously as he did though with less focus on chasing Oliver's ass for the hope of knotting.

Slade will never really know though, whether he was right in trusting Shado to deal with Oliver's heats, as their search and inevitable attempted rescue of the Omega went off without a hitch.

Or at least it appeared to, Oliver having pulled along a Beta female in his timely getaway from the men holding them hostage.

This bothered Slade, the two seeming to known each other. He could smell they weren't Bonded, not that they could—even with Oliver's poor attempt at masking himself with dirt—or anything of the sort which had put his mind slightly to rest as he was slowly dying.

Even now Slade known Oliver wasn't Bonded, had known the Omega was still very much within his reach despite not having seen the other in years.

Everyone thinks Oliver Queen is a Beta, proof the kid's masking his dynamic like he'd implied to Slade he'd done before the island. The only way he could Bond, being an Omega, was to be the receptive partner during sex to a Beta male or an Alpha.

By the tabs Slade was keeping on him, being the cameras he's had discreetly placed around Verdant and watching the media—which was usually an annual broadcast for the rich, particularly the Queen's lives—the last time he had anything to worry about was when Oliver and his co-CEO were in Russia together.

That was the last time Oliver and anyone who could be a potential mate to him had been thoroughly associating together.

The flying off to Moscow had been the most threatening to Slade, almost certain the Omega wasn't Bonded at that point as if anyone knew the truth about his dynamic it would be all over the news, but if he went off with that woman there was no telling what would happen.

Luckily Oliver returned within forty-eight hours, Slade not having yet worked out an excuse to give to Sebastian to go after the Omega. Which then there were still flights and time zone changes to consider yet Oliver came back on his own, thankfully without that other Alpha hanging off his arm.

Otherwise, if she'd looked like she'd made to Bond with him, Oliver willing or not, Slade would have snapped her neck.

Or be it anyone else who he deemed was too close to _his_ Omega.

It doesn't matter if it was Oliver's co-CEO or be it anyone; even Blood's associates weren't out of those crossfires if they stepped into them.

If Sebastian hadn't argued that this Alpha used to be a preacher and they usually wouldn't put hands on any Omegas, Bonded or not, Slade would have been running down there to lop his head off.

No matter how annoying that would have been as that's another wasted vial of the replicated Mirakuru.

No matter, everything else went on hold at that point and was irrelevant as Oliver's was in heat (what the fuck was he doing?), weakened and out in the Glades.

If Sebastian wasn't so much closer to the Glades and preferably Slade should still have kept himself to the shadows at this point of the operation—as he had done over the past few years—he would have made to get down there himself sooner.

Instead he'd been comfortable to sit back and wait for Blood to deliver Oliver to his custody, that way no one else put their hands over Oliver walking around the streets. That might be bordering on overprotective of him but Oliver wouldn't know it was him.

If Oliver got to keep his mask on, so did Slade.

He didn't get the opportunity to suit up and mentally prep himself for seeing Oliver again though as before that could happen apparently Blood's Brother had went gone and lost The Vigilante. Which was even worse, Oliver running around the Glades in heat, then at least in the hands of someone Slade mildly trusted.

It reminded Slade of the island days too much, Alphas stumbling through the bushes to catch Oliver's scent that he would end up having to put his sword through or bullets into to stop their approach.

He called Sebastian off, knowing he'd have to go after Oliver himself then, no time to suit up, just go—Lamborghini effortlessly hitting the speed limit as he rushed through the near-deserted roads of the city going on midnight.

He hadn't smelt Oliver's scent in years, knowing it wouldn't smell the same as he remembers either as no one's got a solid dynamic to The Arrow. Apparently he wears a scent blocker, yet Slade had to trust his nose and instincts anyway to get him to Oliver once he neared the hotel.

It did, or really didn't have to as Oliver practically walked straight to him up through the alleyway coming for his bow.

There had also been another nuisance between them, an Alpha who'd no doubt noticed the albeit faint pheromones Oliver had started to let off as the scent neutralizer started to wane off him in the presence of the Omega's scent overpowering the masking.

He'd snapped the newcomer's neck for daring coming near his Omega, not caring that he hasn't been discreet about it. Or really knowing he'd done it until Slade had snaked his hands around the man's throat, threatening to pull his voice box out.

No one got to touch Oliver, _no one_, especially not right when the Omega looked dazed and on the verge of collapsing.

He'd kill him. He'd kill Blood's Alpha for pulverising Oliver!

Or he deemed he would later after he assessed Oliver's condition, as some of it could have just been his heat deliberating him, as at the time he'd staggered over still clad in vigilante attire.

Slade had known from the beginning, or at least had a fairly accurate idea of who the hooded vigilante was when he'd started showing up in the news. Even without having been in Starling at the time, only knowing that Oliver was back from the dead and the green-hooded crusader showing up around the same time couldn't have just been a coincidence.

Green hood… Shado's hood, Oliver had kept it after all those years.

Seeing it sent a twinge of pain through Slade, the symbolism of Oliver wearing her hood even years on sticking out to him. That Oliver had possibly cared for her more than he did him.

Obviously seeing as he'd been the one to end up with an arrow in his head.

He'd wanted to ask him at the time, be furious at Oliver about why he'd done it.

When the Omega collapses onto him—or Slade prevents him from entirely doing so on the floor—he can't bring himself to want to ask. Not right now. Not when Oliver needed him to protect him, like he'd always done during the Omega's heats.

Or at least it seems that way, the Omega growing lax in his arms, before jolting away from him. Realizing this was not the presumed hallucination Oliver thought it was.

Slade remembers when he thought to himself that coming face-to-face with Oliver again would be one part annoying and the other part slightly amusing. Well, he found out he was wrong… the former turned out to only be one half of the equation.

Seeing and being around Oliver again—which was mostly just the two of them growing frustrated at one another—was all of those things, but it was also relieving and equally internally destroying.

Their first reencounter together wasn't exactly a hospitable experience.

The sex was equally unexpected yet Slade was still prepared for the moment Oliver went to jab his other eye out. Seeing the Omega again, alive, very much alive, it feels like it had changed something within him. Like he doesn't want to hurt him, can't hurt him.

Not if he wants to be Oliver's Alpha, take him as his own. He has to protect him instead, which starts with keeping Blood away from him. Or it would, but before he could throttle Blood something else comes up.

He'd grown placid over the next couple days, too so, like he's been backing right off Oliver's case completely. Not that he was going to go after him again immediately as The Arrow drops off the streets and Oliver looks like he's trying to drop out of his sight as well as he avoids Verdant.

Or anywhere that Slade could catch him out without causing a scene for that matter.

Preferably without violence and this time the Omega _not_ being in heat.

Just wants to see Oliver.

It works, as the only place Slade knew certain to find him then is at Queen Consolidated or at the mansion, neither of which are desirable places to see one another as they're both too public.

Too much at risk if either one of them were to slip up.

So again, he had waited, he's good at that. Very patient considered he'd waiting for four years for Oliver to come back from the dead. That patience expires when he noticed _it_. The real reason Oliver had let himself be knotted.

Bastard had managed to Bond him.

Or rather he'd Bonded Oliver as the Alpha or Beta was always the one to initiate it but the receptive partner had to be willing as well.

Stupid, deceptive and manipulative little Omega!

Thinking he could pull something like that to keep him at a distance and not expect any repercussions on himself.

The moment Slade found out about that, screw waiting. Screw everything, he'd swing by Oliver's house if he had to and introduce himself to the family. First Verdant though, as that was the less risky option and he could always leave his scent everywhere there that way Oliver knew he's coming for him.

Things did not go in favour though as right now Slade has to resist the urge to go back into Verdant. He wants to go back in there and scream at Oliver that he was lying again. That he was just saying all of this to hurt him, hurt him again like he always seemed to.

He wrenches himself away from there though, knowing better, finally knowing better.

Slade had nearly killed him… he'd nearly killed that stupid Omega. The one he'd been jealous of when Shado had put her hands all over. Possibly the last distinctly good thing he had on Lian Yu, or just in general, before it all turned to shit… and he'd nearly utterly annihilated him without even knowing it.

_He was right to try and kill you, you monster._

And now, after all this time, Slade thought he was in the right trying to take revenge. Take everything away from Oliver like he feels the Omega had from him.

He was so wrong, so unbelievably wrong.

He's fucked up so badly and somehow his mind had just ended up warping everything out of proportion.

_It's all your fault._

Slade stumbles upwards, realizing he's still leaning against his car outside the side of Verdant. The door's still closed, the way he left it.

He doesn't want to see Oliver, can't see him right now. Obviously Oliver doesn't want to see him right now either, probably hates him, is relieved he's left.

Fumbling for the key fob in his pocket and getting into his car, Slade has to hope Oliver won't come. Don't come chasing after him because if the Omega's going to, it better be to put another arrow in him.

_Don't come, Oliver._

_Don't come._

_I don't want to hurt you._

_Not again…_

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**Author Notes: **Some of you might be wondering as well why I didn't sum up things from Slade's point of view through flashbacks. Which I could have, and it would have likely been more efficient, but this method was quicker.

Also, in canon it's implied that Slade has a son (as he does in the comics). Here we're going to disregard those facts as we're already got a lot going on as it is.


	9. Worlds Apart

**Author Notes: **This chapter could have been up two or three days ago but the Wi-Fi around my neighbourhood was down until now due to the weather.

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**Chapter 9: Worlds Apart**

He should have lied.

_You should have lied… he didn't need to know._

Oliver tells himself as the door slamming shut in its frame seems to vibrate through the whole underground area and settle in his stomach, rattling his nerves.

The urge to go after Slade is there; tear out after the Alpha, even though he knows he stands no chance of catching up to Slade if he really wanted to get away.

Be alone, and get away from him.

Which was assuming he'd driven down here in the first place, which Slade at least seemed to have done the other night when he came after him. Then Oliver could always try and flag him down by bike on the way back to the Alpha's mass headquarters in the nicer part of the city.

He'd hadn't had a chance to on the initial day of ending up there and the later hightailing it from there but Oliver had scoped out the exact location of the building in the week following their first encounter.

Having more free time on his hands than he usually did, having hung up The Arrow temporarily, Oliver had begun to survey the building from a discreet distance after work sometimes.

Which turned out to only be a couple blocks down from Queen Consolidated.

Evaluating potential points of entries, the buildings he'd need to be on to duck through to the higher floors—which he'd worked out that the one Slade seemed to alternate on was a reasonable distance up when he'd jumped out over the balcony from one of the living quarters there. As well as where it was safest to make said jumps from, not every floor having verandas and balconies, only walls of glass that if needed to jump through in a hurry could half-maim him to death.

More so, Oliver spent a lot of those times, looking and waiting, over the past couple days on the lookout for Slade. Seeing if he could catch him out with his mask on yet not knowing what he'd say all the same.

It was obvious they both weren't the same people they were five years ago, but even with all his planning and trying to take that into consideration, their expected and inevitable conversation did not end up going his way.

It didn't look as if it had went either of their ways regardless as Slade's stormed out and he's immediately going for his bow.

Pulling out the wooden box—not that of his regular compound bow—from its place of storage under a steel cabinet.

Needing the comfort and stability, the control that wielding a bow could only ever seem to give him. The element he'd honed to perfection over all the years as his mind begins to ruminate over the events passed.

He relegates the fraying box to an unoccupied table before flipping it open, revealing the wooden recurve bow inside. Where it had stayed since he'd last dared use it in taking down Malcolm Merlyn.

Back then, he had no time to consider waiting for a replacement bow. Only had hours before the Alpha was going to attempt to put half of the city underground.

Here, even with another on the way though, Oliver needs the composure of the weapon. Not intending to sully it or take it out on the streets with him, only needing it in the here and now, feeling his composure beginning to slip. 'Was even before Slade started really getting under his skin with mentions of how he'd stabbed the Alpha.

Self-defence… it was self-defence, right? He'd killed people before on the island in the name of self-defence, when it was your life or theirs on the line.

_How had that been any different?_, Oliver asks himself regarding Slade as he runs his fingertips over the limbs of Yao Fei's long bow. The one that Shado had begun to train him with whilst also taking it up as her own.

It was built for someone shorter in height than him, at least a couple inches as the draw string and weight wasn't as best suited to him as it could be. Which he'd found out after months of using those custom-made to his height.

Picking it up doesn't ease the strain of his thought process though, dozens of stray observations afloat in his head. Like how the situation with Slade had been different from anyone else he's had to kill, post-island or on it, because that time it had been personal. It had been different.

That time it hadn't been about going to put an arrow into a target on his father's list, or having to do the same to a solider on the island who he knew would kill him if he didn't. It had been Slade, short and simple, a friend not a foe. Not out to hurt him, hell not even out to smack him around with training.

'Was out to save him and Oliver possibly owed Slade his life for that. Because if the Alpha hadn't shown up when he did, or even at all, Ivo probably would have been splitting him open on a table and sifting through his innards.

He doesn't even know how Sara—a complete stranger and someone Slade had still considered an enemy at that point, or at least not an ally—had convinced the Alpha to go after him. Or at least attempt to as the boat would have had to have been docked or anchored close to land for it to even be accessible from the island.

Either way, it was a suicide mission and the fact that Slade—the one who'd originally said he'd kill him if turned out to be a hindrance—had even gone along with it and succeeded was beyond him.

He had not been worth been worth the risk at all, wouldn't have wanted anyone else to die for him either or because of him—like Shado had—if the choice was his.

But by the same token, he had wanted to save Yao Fei from Fyer's men when given the chance, so if anything, Slade coming to rescue him makes the matter of nearly killing him all the more painful.

_What was I supposed to do though?_

A question that Oliver had fretted over and asked himself many times since that day. That if he could have done things differently what would he have done? Would he have still chosen to attack Slade, even though in his frenzied state he'd ended up hurting the Alpha in the first place?

He hadn't wanted to, hadn't meant to, but if he hadn't _accidentally_ mortally wounded Slade, would he even have been able to stop the Alpha from encroaching on him? Slade was stronger, faster, always had been—even before the Mirakuru—and when it came down to the wire, the Alpha still could have…

_No_, why was he thinking that?

Slade had never taken advantage of him before, even whilst him being in heat, and the last time he didn't consider the Alpha to have done so either.

Heats were painful enough as it is, let alone as Oliver had found on the island, having an Unbonded Alpha who didn't seem to want to let him alone—literally—during said heats. It intensified every sensation and seemed to lengthen the periods that the fever-like spells would stay with him.

Slade could stop that, stop all of it and they both knew he could. Bring to a halt the crippling pains panging him. It would be simple.

But Oliver had also had it drilled into him by his father that if he let himself go just around any Alpha, not one of his family's choosing in a proper courtship, he was then worthless. He'd betray his family and stain his bloodline as an Omega should always remain_ pure_ for 'their' Alpha.

He didn't want to disappoint his father any more than he already had, as apparently as an Omega in their sort of families; their only hope was to be courted off for obscene amounts of money. That of which only similar families would be able to pay the dowry fee for. If he went and let someone else take him, that dowry fee would practically be void, especially if someone else could testify to him no longer being virginal.

Because while Oliver might not have been the Alpha his father wanted, rightfully continuing on their bloodline, apparently he would still fetch a fine price once his father deemed he was 'of age'.

Before the island, Oliver hadn't really been put into a situation where the former could have been the case—being an Alpha trying to come on to him and him potentially going along with it. Nobody knew he was an Omega so there were scarce few that would try to come onto him with the intention of him being the receptive partner.

So it wasn't a particularly hard matter to skate around though he did still feel a twinge of annoyance at Robert for not allowing him to be on a better form of concealment than _just_ suppressants.

People like Laurel and plenty of other Omegas had contraceptive implants, meaning they didn't have to have heats for years. So technically they could exist as a Beta but whilst still being an Omega, just like he was for all purposes doing with the added disadvantage of still needing to lock himself away every couple months.

When he'd made the unintentional comment of that to his father, he'd looked at him like he was disgusted. Making comments about how those things decreased fertility and even if he did agree with it, no more doctors or people in the medical field needed to know that his son wasn't a Beta than the few that already did.

People who had been paid for their silence.

Oliver didn't press the subject at the time anymore though he was fairly certain his mother had a more conventional method of dealing with heats than suppressants, then he did, before she no doubt hit menopause.

He'd done everything his father wanted him to do, so if Robert had just buckled in the first place and let him go on something better than suppressants, he wouldn't have had the issue of Alpha-trying-to-come-onto-him-but-father-wanted-him-to-remain-pure. Especially in his father's passing, where even though he was gone those thoughts of betraying his father still hung over him like a black cloud.

It made being around an Alpha, which he'd never been around in his heats before, that much more of a conflicting decision. Torn between waiting out his own sufferance, which surely felt like it would kill him eventually, and displeasing his father even in the grave. Who had also left him with the burden of his last words being for him to try and right his wrongs, or something of the sort.

Despite the pain that it cause him, he stood by Robert's wishes, and Slade stood by his. That no matter what happened, he didn't _want_ the Alpha. It wasn't him but the lust talking as his mind was just about begging him to _do something_, anything to ease how unbearable his heats were.

With Yao Fei it didn't seem that bad, like the Alpha purposefully made sure to be out when his scent started to change indicating he was close, the twice that it had happened around him. Even when Yao Fei did return he seemed very aloof to Oliver's presence, like nothing had changed and he may as well not be in heat for all the attention he wasn't getting.

Yao Fei was super human, that much was sure. Or Bonded and wouldn't touch him for daring to dishonour his mate.

Slade, on the other hand, was fairly the same. Albeit it seemed to take him noticeably more effort to back away from him when his body was no doubt telling him to knot the Omega.

Maybe that's why he ended up warming to Slade, even as an Alpha he should be hostile and wary of. He seemed to be able to do the impossible and resist the allure of an Omega's overpowering pheromones. Even when the reality of the situation was, that people would find him, and the least amount of time he spent unintentionally signalling off their location the better.

It was a wonder Slade hadn't killed him or just knotted him regardless of what he said. It wasn't the first time Oliver had put them in danger and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

And although it was noticeably hard for Slade to keep his hands off on him, Oliver would argue it was more so difficult for him. Never having experienced anything quite like it before— heats not dulled by hormone suppressants and the added pressure of being clearly in Alpha territory with their scents wrapping all around him.

If Slade hadn't been half-content to stay away from, Oliver is sure, ashamedly enough, that he would have been throwing himself at the other man's feet, begging him to take his pain away.

But it didn't happen, and if anything the Alpha could have been considered gentlemanly around him during those times.

It was only when the Alpha was likely under the influence of a mind-altering drug—the Mirakuru—did his self-control seem to buckle. Slade has his chance, as Oliver's finally gotten to the point where stuff it, screw his father. He's not going to put himself in more danger and pain than necessary for the sake of old-fashioned courtships that had mostly died out from the modern world decades ago.

He was okay with _it_, the sex didn't have to mean anything unless…

Unless…

Snapping out of his thoughts, Oliver finishes grabbing up Shado's bow as if it will help steady his mind and the unexpected turn his thoughts had taken.

"Duìbùqǐ," he whispers, Chinese fluent, as if to ask the forgiveness of her spirit.

For taking up her bow like this. For his own weakness.

xxxxxxxx

Almost every inch of the west wall by the stairs is littered with arrows and their intended targets—most of them tennis balls and pieces of scrap metal left over from the club's construction—by the time Dig and Felicity walk into the basement.

Oliver doesn't seem to notice them as he's already nocked another arrow in the shaft of his longbow, three fingers drawn back on the string to plant it into the concrete wall with the rest.

Dig and Felicity know without even having to look at Oliver that he's tense, can tell it from the very atmosphere. The way his natural scent was even starting to slip out from his Beta 'composure', sign that he hasn't reapplied the coverage sprays he uses in a while.

"Whoa, Oliver," Felicity quips, walking over, tablet in one hand and a large, metal box in the other.

"Empty the entire quiver why don't you?"

Oliver drops his shooting stance instantly, dominant hand dropping off the bow and taking notice of the contents the Beta was carrying.

"What took you for so long?" he bites out with slightly more venom than necessary.

"Sorry, my plane only landed like three hours ago and I made sure to pick up this," Felicity responds, not wanting to deal with Oliver's obviously displeased attitude, hauling the box up onto the steel table.

She flicks open the large latch on it, Oliver immediately coming over looking like he's lost interest in giving her a lecture.

It contained a custom-made Oneida Kestrel, practically identical to the last, albeit without the wear and tear damage the first had accumulated.

"Got the message saying it had arrived earlier," Felicity adds, standing to the side as she lets Oliver observe his bow, the Omega picking it up to look over it intently. Testing things like the draw string and the weight of the bow.

Dig walks up beside Felicity, having picked her up from the airport and made the detour with her to pick up Oliver's bow, arguing that she shouldn't go alone, even though there was no trouble. Better to be safe than sorry after all.

"Nice to see you've decided to show your face around here again, Oliver," Dig says, expression warming as it looks like Oliver's finally decided to stop avoiding them and show his face around Verdant.

"Well, I didn't exactly have a choice. The city never sleeps and I need to get back out there," Oliver puts bluntly and to the point, brow furrowing though it looks like he deems his bow to be fine.

Taking it over to where he kept the old, broken one in its stand and replacing it. He only sets it down for the moment before pulling off his jacket and going over to the glass casing containing his Arrow hood and gear.

"Isn't it a bit early for The Arrow to come out?" Dig speaks up, quirking an eyebrow.

The sun wasn't even going down yet and usually Oliver would wait till night out before venturing out as The Arrow. The cover of the shadows obviously made it easier for him to move about undetected, further helping him conceal his identity. In the daylight, more people were likely to take notice and most people didn't respond civilly to The Arrow.

"No, as it is I'm making up for lost time," Oliver affirms, shrugging out of his shirt and dropping his quiver aside to proceed to pull apart his vigilante attire from its mannequin.

Dig and Felicity share a glance, knowing it's futile to try and stop Oliver as he's pulling on his archery gloves.

Felicity speaks up anyway.

"You didn't even see what Barry left you."

"Whatever it is I'm sure I don't want it," Oliver scowls, not even giving the Beta a sideways glance.

It was probably something sexist about him being an Omega. Stupid kid had seemed so fascinated with his dynamic in the first place that he can almost be thankful for the Beta being in a coma right now, at least that way he's keeping his mouth shut.

"Well, if you insist on going out on the daylight, I'm going to have to insist you take this," Felicity presses.

Opening up the box Barry left on one of the tables and taking it over to Oliver where he's doing up his arm bracers.

"Hmph, fine, but I don't see what—" Oliver goes to start but pauses midsentence noticing the Beta's gift.

In the box is a small mask, a dark-green, near black one. Designed to only cover the eyes.

He pauses doing up his equipment, taking the mask out of the box and remembering how Barry had made comment about him not having one.

Felicity smiles warmly, watching Oliver take the other Beta's gift and put it on.

"I imagine it'll work better than the grease paint does."

Oliver doesn't say anything but leaves the mask on, flicking his hood overtop of it.

He gets up, brushing past Dig and Felicity to grab his aluminium-carbon arrows to restock his quiver with. Rather than the general carbon ones he's grown accustomed to using. The aluminium composite offering deeper penetration, which he'd need if he hoped to hurt Slade.

_Slade…_ he doesn't know if he's going to see the Alpha out of the streets again but for the moment he needs The Arrow as a distraction from him. Even if that is inadvertently making him an easier target for Slade to sneak up on, seeing as neither of them want to see the other with company.

Leaving Verdant, he knows at least he doesn't want to.

Not right now while he's feeling so vulnerable.

xxxxxxxx

When Oliver leaves out the back door, not saying much to either of them, Felicity immediately turns to Dig, having settled into her desk chair.

"You know what's up, don't you?" Dig says, breaking the silence.

His eyes are concerned but questioning. Not all of that being aimed at her.

"Yeah… I may be a Beta but I can smell too," Felicity nods.

As a Beta, her sense of smell wasn't as acute as an Alpha or an Omega's.

"You didn't say anything though?"

Felicity can only sigh.

"Your attempts at interrogating Oliver over the past week haven't worked so what makes you think mine will?"

"Well, he hasn't said anything so for. If there was a big issue; I think he would have said something by now," Dig comments, referring to how anything bar casual conversation with Oliver the past week was nearly impossible.

He'd closed back in on himself, was more like how Diggle remembers him first being when he was assigned to the 'Beta' as his bodyguard. Dig has learnt better than to pry but he also doesn't like just leaving Oliver to his thoughts.

Felicity just gives him an 'are-you-kidding-me?' look from where she's booting up her computers.

"Dig, Oliver is obviously seeing an Alpha and he doesn't want us knowing about it. Or at least he seems to think we wouldn't notice," Felicity just shakes her head, wrinkling her nose at the scent she can pick up here and there in Verdant.

Alpha, overpoweringly Alpha.

Oliver had obviously been careless and forgot to sterile the place before they arrived. He must have been too busy attacking the wall in his irritation to pay the former much thought.

Speaking of the wall, someone would have to clean that up later. Dozens of arrows still imbedded in it as Oliver's just dropped everything to be out playing The Arrow again.

Or so he was telling them…

"And he doesn't have very good two-out-of-three track records with his choice in Alphas in the past either," Felicity continues, resting her case when Diggle doesn't say anything.

"Just because he's an Omega, doesn't mean he can't take care of himself," Dig says, hearing the slight uncertainty in the Beta's voice, "And you're counting?"

"Of course. First there was psycho ex-girlfriend Helena, then that stupid fling in Russia with Miss Rochev. Who knows what goes through Oliver's mind?"

Felicity hadn't meant to let that slip out, the part about Oliver and Isabel, but thankfully Dig pays it no mind.

"So you think this is another Helena situation?"

"Well, why not? Like you said, his heat last week brushed over rather quickly, this mysterious guy who kidnapped Oliver last week—the two seem to know each other. And now even I can smell an Alpha was here not very long ago. And it wasn't you either, because you were with me and you can smell Lyla in your scent."

Even though Felicity has barely met Lyla, she can tell the two are Bonded from their scents. Though she didn't really notice it before seeing them together, 'cause she's still a Beta and all.

Scenting and Bonding isn't in her forte nor really her dynamic.

"Those are some broad jumps you're making, don't you think?" Dig quirks an eyebrow, leaning against a table across from her as they exchange comments about 'what the hell Oliver is up to?'

"Well… maybe, but why not? Helena showed up back here once before, why not again?" Felicity argues, the underling hint that not even she believes her own claims.

"Helena's not the kind of person to wait around. She's got no reason to be here as her father isn't; otherwise he probably would have been arrested. Besides, I've caught her scent a couple times before. This isn't her," Dig affirms, though shutting down Felicity's argument in the process.

Alpha's scents might not have come in such a wide variety as Omega's did—the Omega's scent having to tell the most important things outside of just being for attraction purposes—but through years of military training Dig had learnt to discern a lot of things from a person's scent.

The small but distinct differences between one person and another, genders, not just dynamics, wheatear or not a person was being effected by a long lasting injury or illness.

This—Dig assures himself, straining to find the still lingering scent of Oliver's Alpha associate—was not Helena.

Too much testosterone even for the average Alpha female, though the same could be said about Oliver as an Omega. So male likely, but Dig had been wrong before. Obviously a mature Alpha too, likely at least Oliver's age or older, otherwise his scent wouldn't have been overpowering Oliver's Beta cover-up so easily.

The list of Alphas Oliver knows is a small one though, even more so the ones he actively associates with. There was him… Detective Lance—that was as The Arrow though— and that was about it for the current ones. There was Walter and Tommy a year back and John can almost feel himself wanting to think Felicity was right.

"It's not Helena. Alpha, but more likely a guy," Dig has to confirm aloud again for himself.

"So, this is the potentially psycho ex-boyfriend?"

"Felicity, we don't _know _that."

"What? I just don't think it's fair we're being kept in the dark here about what Oliver's up to." Felicity says, scowling and wheeling back around on her chair to face her computers.

She's obviously displeased, more so than he is but Diggle's probably grown a lot more used to this behaviour from Oliver.

"I know, I know. It's not our place to pry into Oliver's personal life though."

That might not have been the best thing to say as Felicity instantly turns back around and raises her voice.

"Not our place to know? Oliver was out there as The Arrow just last week and we have no idea what even happened! People look like they've stopped dying but apparently Oliver didn't kill anyone either. He was right on heat and although I don't worry about him normally, I _know_ from people I've known that the streets are no place for an Omega in heat.

How do we know something didn't happen to him and he's trying to cover it up? How do we not know that he didn't get—"

"Felicity," Dig cuts in abruptly, knowing where she's going with her stray thoughts and feeling the need to cut her off before she gets there.

"This is Oliver, we're talking about," Dig tries to reassure, "The Oliver who has kicked potentially hundreds of Alpha's asses, Oliver."

"Yeah," Felicity huffs, "the lying Oliver who always keeps secrets from us, Oliver."

xxxxxxxx

**Author Notes:** "Duìbùqǐ" means "I'm sorry" in Chinese, according to the internet. Feel free to correct me if it's wrong.

The next chapter should be up sooner than this one as a fair bit of it is already done.


End file.
